Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Today 
I heard them say that things were now much better.
That place, which I had founded by God's Grace
And into which my soul was poured 
Now has new staff, directors and another board. 
It's changed from early years
So when I come to chat, I sign a visit book 
And reception sometimes gives a sideways look 
To wonder 'who is he?'
 
All that work, the self's esteem, confined to 
Annals on the shelf. It's come, it's gone
And all is now a 'once has been'.
My prime of life is slipping well behind, 
A runner slowing in his race and then 
Another pack begins to lap and overtake 
With faster pace than mine, now fading 
Eyes now counting every shortened stride, 
Still bright, though, still lifted to the finish line.
 
Will it be a race well run?
 
Too late to start from blocks again. 
Besides who wants the blows, the knocks 
The daily strain. For those who run 
Their life race well the finish is a passing line
Another Starter's gun, a new race just begun
And so this final turn upon the track 
Though slow, holds promise of a head
Held high, and joyful shouts when passing by: 
'Well done! Well done! a race well run!
Now come and place your hand in Mine'

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