Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Time gets squandered, out of a blooming, spring season. A poetic literature of joy is just here for you.


Squandering Time

Did I live the spring I’d sought?
It’s true in joy, I walked along,
took part in dance,
and sang the song.
and never tried to bind an hour

to my borrowed garden bower;
nor did I once entreat
a day to slumber at my feet.

Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,
like morning birds they pass along,
o’er crests of trees, to none belong;
o’er crests of trees of drying dew,
their larking flight, my hands, eschew
Thus I’ll say it once and true…

From all that I saw,
and everywhere I wandered,
I learned that time cannot be spent,
It only can be squandered.

~ Roman Payne ~

A bird in a spring.~ Image "Blessings on the blossoms" by Moaan ~

A joyous spring it may bring, seizing it as an opportunity is the thing.

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