Ashes of Youth, Its Winsome Colors Gone

Ashes Of Youth, Its Winsome Colors Gone Time had came, last night of dear life had called ashes of youth, its winsome colors gone. Left, shades of joyful life, all it enthralled leaving then, no longer could she hang on. Stood not, power to cease chiming clocks ticks nor grant more sweet days of touching them all. At last slow motion came, driving all clicks Then last shadow began destiny's call. Prayers uttered had no true, saving effect dying-veil of darkness had embraced her. Fate, its savage master sent to collect was done in a blink, soul's final transfer. Smiling, Fate winked at we few that remained Message, when touched your life too, will be drained. Robert J. Lindley, 2-02-2017 Sonnet Note: Poem was written on Death.... my mother's.. “We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.” ? Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967