RESTING

 

To all the journeys that I have went

Along life’s hard and weary day,

I’ll drink some wine from memory’s store

And ponder dreams now dust and clay.

I’ll rest my tired and bleary eyes,

My faithful lens of bygone years

Of pain and sorrow, lows and highs,

Of love and loss, of joy and tears.

And as I sit and think and rest,

In pensive thought I realise

I’m of the few that’s truly blessed.

Ancient, but mature and wise.

For most of my old friends are gone

And some are waiting for the bell,

But I will gladly soldier on

To drink more cheer, but not farewell.

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