Whether it brings downpour or a brilliant shine
Some days may be murky, others will be fine
But whether we are thankful or sad
Is left for our imagination to decide;
Events never tell a single story,
And everyday is many-sided poetry.
For friends and love our longings tend;
If we are loving well, perhaps, we’d scarcely lack a friend.
A man’s fleeting time is soon past,
But memories remain in loved ones hearts;
Without love, life will have no beauty,
Because love is every day’s poetry.
Every year we celebrate being older
- Apparently a step to the grave closer;
Alas, the fear of death has from many wrest
Their lives quality at it’s very best;
Argh! Our idea of living can be such a subtle irony
And everyday, bittersweet poetry.
Every day is apparently brand new
Unique in itself, each morning’s dew.
But for what’s done, there’s hardly erasure,
As by itself, our history is determined to endure.
Remoulding with fragments of yesterday’s shattered pottery
Is an ingredient key to life’s mastery.
I’ve wished some days would last forever,
Also often, prayed to start allover.
Well, history may repeat at any instant,
Although, change they say is more constant.
We don’t press the control buttons easily
Time and chance is The Creator’s poetry.
©2010, Tee Akindele