The Gift
I
The years are passing, swift they fly;
The days dissolve; the seasons die.
Yet time’s still there to grasp and hold,
A treasured gift more dear than gold.
II
Though fading light may mark the years,
The path more narrow now appears.
It carries on beyond this bend;
And no one knows the day it ends.
III
Some trails I took were dark and deep;
Some hearts I loved, I failed to keep.
Forgiveness mends the broken soul;
Forgive, forget, and make it whole.
IV
Hair turns silver, and steps grow slow;
A gentler fire, a kinder glow.
Embrace these days, while still you can;
For time slips quick away from man.
V
So let me age with eyes wide still,
With wisdom sharp and steadfast will.
Each step is slower, breath runs thin;
Yet there’s still strength that dwells within.
VI
The journey bends, the body breaks;
And every step is mine to take.
And when the last hard mile is done,
I’ll rest my head beneath the sun.
Epilogue
I write these lines at sixty years,
With steady hand and fewer fears.
The road behind, the path ahead,
Both shaped by steps I chose to tread.
The journey still unfolds each day,
With things to learn along the way.
The trail still winds, the sky still wide;
Time is the gift, Truth is the guide.
(Written to mark my 60 years — September 30th, 2025).
Butterfly, butterfly, drift on the breeze;