Glitter tinsel bright and gold
Shimmer lantern white and old
My father’s face, the frown he wore
The visage seen from long before,
The namesake not at all alike
Comparing man and tiny tyke,
Had hoped to be but some akin
Again that we delight in him,
But not yet so nor ever be
That any, all, should be as he.
What are we that we leave but nought
Of what we’ve been or might have thought?
Seems all that’s left e’er we depart
Are mem’ries dim in aging heart,
A stone to recollect the day
We came and that we passed away.
A pittance small for life’s demand
A wage not worthy of command.
The moral in this wretched thought
That time can neither hide nor fraught,
Is simple in its elegance
A matter of small eloquence
The one impact to which we’re heir
While most unjust and too unfair,
‘Tis seeming most depraved to think,
We stand, we tremble on the brink
We come and go both heart and mind
And never leave a trace behind.
Claire V. Bogdanos 