Poems from my Archives. Originally Published 10/05/2011
What, you say, what makes this day
any different in any way
well, for starters, I awoke
which is the best known way to start the day.
I lay for a while my mind in a whirl
what day is this as my mind plays tricks
is it Sunday or Monday or some other day
I’ll figure it out along the way
as we get ready to start another day
I look around and check the room
two cats, five dogs all ready to play
get up, they say, for this is the way
we want to start every day.
At the age seventy-six, life has a way of playing tricks.
If for some reason, my eyes do not open
when normally they should, I would have to assume that
in the night, my soul has gone for good.
Where it has gone I would not know
neither would I assume, that all my life
there has not been strife enough to suggest
that at the very best
where will I have eternal rest
No, it may well be that in my life
I have done enough good to equal the strife
created over the years.
So, if in the morning, I do not wake
will it be because of mistakes that over the years
I have made. or will it be that my time is up
and this old body has suffered enough
and is taking its final rest.
Ah, you say, what a beautiful day
the sun shines bright giving us light
to do the things that life holds for us
on this, another day.
Let’s see, what day is this, I have to think
about the things that I need to do. If I don’t get
the days correct, then a mess I will be in, that’s true
Well, I have finally figured out the day
and the things to do along the way
like feed my pets as I usually do
make breakfast for me and coffee too
like I have done many times before
same old things, but who keeps score
as long as I wake in the usual way
then every day is a beautiful day.
Life is beautiful. Enjoy it…
© Francis Allcorn