Our Garden of Candles
How can one begin to caress the unknown,
as tomorrow is coming closer, our yesterdays gone.
Between the days, lie the bitter truth,
when youth disappears, and there is nothing we can do.
Reality is awakened from a dormant sleep,
capturing an image supposed to be me.
Unlike the making, of expensive fine wine,
years have a way, of being unkind.
The greatest treasure on this journey through life,
is the wisdom acquired, from our garden of candles, burning
so bright.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment