A Lifetime

So young so beautiful, so refined
An innocent child, his life ahead
He see's not the future, he lives for the moment.
To him nothing is trouble, he knows not dread.

Quickly he grows, he starts to school.
His future ahead, he has his dreams.
He tosses and tumbles through happy days.
And nurses his bruises, as his life he paves.

Upwards and onwards, he travels on.
Growing daily, his work is not done.
He reaches the height, of his youthful years.
Through many sorrows and a few tears.

Now he's a father, his young are grown.
He does his duty, he takes the throne.
Lord and master of all he survey's
His home is his castle, a world of his own.

Sadly life passes, now he's getting old.
His memories fading as feeble he grows.
Youth now a dream, its hard to remember.
His life has run, from January to December.

by Mary Gore

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