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Poem

Days before the last, 
A day to remember, 
A form of regret, 
With the picture of sadness,
The lmage of pain, 
The structure of a wish,
"Had i know" 
With a creation of beauty, 
At the moment, 
Conformed with pleasure, 
A sweet desire to behold, 
The art of a design so beautiful, 
That it cannot be resisted, 
Like a trap,
In a road,
Ever so admirable and tempting to go,
But at the end, 
A creation of pain, fear, loneliness,
So vain that it cannot be  repaired,
A tragedy of a decision,
Which could have been made right,
At that point in time,
But now, lost,
In a scar so eternal,

Days of smiling,
Present at this point of rememberance,
With the heart of joy, happiness,tears
With no pain,
But peace at that moment of gain,
With the choice made,
Not falling in pleasure,
But to treasure,
The presence and the present, 
Of the substance and the object,
Living,
Both breathing and tangible,
With a future to behold,
Of things good,
And not to fall,
In the cases of the other direction,

Days of the last,
With the hope to create smiles,
And imbibe joy,
To your dearest,
And your dears,
Both far and near,
And by Providence Divine,
Ever sure,
With the faith,
Ever strong,
That by Him,
Things good,  
are never too far,
In these last days,
To smile.

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