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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1284898
I wrote this for the memorial card for my mother.
The way we live



We live our lives, from day to day
And one by one, we drift away.

Those once close, are close no more,
Separated by miles, or just a door.

Excuses flow like thick sweet wine
There is always tomorrow… there is always time.

Tomorrow I will call, next week we will meet
But today I am tired, just dead on my feet.

We can make up later, for that meaningless fight
Later, not now, because I know I was right.

How easy it is, to put off those few words
To tell someone you care, and make sure that they heard.

Don’t waste a chance, to make amends with your past,
There is no way to know if it may be your last.

Time moves fast, in this life that we live,
And the Lord will take back, that which he gives.
© Copyright 2007 Spiritwriter (saronhalt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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