Moments of Gold
The moments of time that lay piled up and scattered
I frittered away as if none of them mattered.
A rich man was I, so why bother to measure
The castaway minutes my elders called treasure?
The time-wasting trifles all sparkled and glistened;
They captured my focus; I cared not to listen.
And now as I sit with my clock fully leached,
Those minutes are phantoms that fly out of reach.
I march to the darkness, the reaper in view;
The moments now precious are fleeting and few.
From dollars to pennies, my time is nigh spent
The last one I kiss though too late to repent
The youth I should warn, yet now I despair.
I realize their outlook I cannot repair.
For theirs are reflections of my foolish days,
And I neither listened, nor altered my ways.
I go to my casket still yearning for hours
I threw to the wind and laughed at the powers
That call to us mortals, “Each minute is gold.
Invest when you’re young to buy peace when you’re old.”
Categories: Thoughts from the Heart