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About the Poem

Time holds us all in her gentle grasp. We cannot fight the passage of our lives from young to old. We must accept that this is the only way life can - - and should - - be lived.

The Last Summer

Once upon a summer's day
When I was just a child at play
I felt Time's gentle, loving touch
But did not think of it too much.

Later I realized we all run
A road that ends beyond the sun
And though we live in blinding light
We can't escape the darkest night.

I did not know when summers end,
On which schedule to depend,
For Life gave me no finish line
While Death gave me no warning sign.

"Tomorrow is another day."
Tomorrow came and passed away.
I feared that I had wasted, spent,
The greatest gift God ever sent.

But now that my last summer's here
I find myself devoid of fear
I wait with every labored breath
To gaze upon the face of Death.

For when this soul is fit for rest,
This soul will sleep where sleep is best,
For I will have no need for haste,
For I will have no time to waste.
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4 Visitor Comments

Great poem, wish everyone would take the time to look deeply into life as you have. Be well Rosemarie
A very honest poem. As we live life, we often miss the meaning of gentle touches and fail to acknowledge the beautiful gift that each moment is. Facing our own mortality, then we review the awesome value that life is. Hind sight being 20/20, this poem reminds us to live each day to the fullest. Let us not waste what wonderful time and experiences each of us has to behold. only if we slow down and choose to do so. Smell the roses! Thank you for such an insightful poem and for inspiring us to live well.
it is a lovely and realistic poem. however it is still the same i shall never be ready but prepare for the worst andd who am I to say so. it is Gods judgement and its our desstiny no matter the day or the hour, it is only a matter of time. thanks for that reality check.
This poem is lovely and well written, however I am concerned for the author. I feel he is tormented. Overall I was moved by all of his poems.

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