The Epistle

CATEGORY

Eyes to see, ears to hear
 

What you say to me I hold dear
 

Out of the mouths of babes the truth come
 

Telling me that I am worthless to you
 

And, no more deserve the confidence of knowing
 

That the special times are gone
 

Here to remind me of those days of long past
 

When things of value was simply the gratitude
 

We had for one another that we hold dear
 

Now the heartrending trials are meaningless
 

And long forgotten
 

Only to feel the weaken condition of what time will surely bring
 

If you are lucky to endure
 

Bring me my flowers to the door
 

So I may smell the sweet fragrance
 

And see the beauty of their wonder
 

Not to be put on the cold earth
 

To be submitted to cold and thunder
 

What says the epitaph of one who has gone under
 

To the voices of all I hold dear
 

I beseech you, for all the feeble voices of the past