The hours fly like autumn leaves
Both sere and withered in the breeze
The days are lost, they’ve disappeared
Like storm toss’d trees all stripped and sheared.
Our yesterdays are hard to find
Our joys and pains are intertwined.
Confusion teases what we’ve known
With memories long deeply flown.
Our fleeting thoughts do come and go
We queue to wait for God’s next show !
Claire V. Bogdanos 