Ship Wreck Old Age

Sinking quietly in minds of young, Wrinkles not seen yet sadly ignored. Living forever is a myth they consider, Eternal mortality looking them in a mirror. If only time did stand still wishes answered, Dreams unfortunately only made of one's reality. So goes that cruel blindness of brains barely alive, Growing only as surely as from the day they were born. Except for grace of their beginner it marks nothing, Prancing down care free path of primroses will catch up. Not one line of wisdom crossing that delicate petal skin, Having not yet bloomed tells so much of this inexperience. It is so far better to have finally hung upon life's reef, Then to have never sailed those oceans which beckon daily. Being drawn to them much more natural than earthen grave, Lapping faithfully each dawn on the shores of eternity. Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved "A poem to me is the essence of any thought, Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky. It can fly like no other bird to places never seen, Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place." © 2014 Robert William Gruhn