Sunday, August 28, 2005

LIFE and DEATH 8-28-05

A gentle breeze,
a flowing stream;
the trees of green,
a pleasant dream.

Food I'd waste,
in hurried haste;
for all I faced,
in that rat race.

Why stood me here,
hand to my ear;
want for a cheer,
to come each year?

Accomplishments,
were not by me;
but all was He,
who lived in me.

There is no song,
now that I'm gone;
plant under lawn,
I say, "So long".

Sweat-less my brow,
no matter now;
not horse or cow;
my final bow.

This is increase,
I have my lease;
so let me cease,
and rest in peace.

©2005 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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