November 27, 2014
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Thanksgiving about the gifts of time and death.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Time is a gift, like food or love or death,
However much one wants to live forever.
All that is, is in a single breath.
Now is ample time for each endeavor.
Knowing one will die makes time more precious
Since even music needs a proper end,
Giving each note density and purpose
In a compass one can comprehend.
Vistas have horizons, even though
Infinity still lurks beyond the stars,
Nothing that a grateful soul can know,
Given that one’s gift such knowledge bars.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a poem for Thanksgiving about the gifts of time and death.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree/week.html.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Time is a gift, like food or love or death,
However much one wants to live forever.
All that is, is in a single breath.
Now is ample time for each endeavor.
Knowing one will die makes time more precious
Since even music needs a proper end,
Giving each note density and purpose
In a compass one can comprehend.
Vistas have horizons, even though
Infinity still lurks beyond the stars,
Nothing that a grateful soul can know,
Given that one’s gift such knowledge bars.
© by Nicholas Gordon
No comments:
Post a Comment