doing small things...
with big hands,
old hands that shake a little,
fumble a little,
but know their way.
aches and pains,
memory's reminder...
and all in all,
it's a good day to be alive!
eyes grow dim,
but still have a spark.
pages written and sealed
for whatever comes.
the soul ferments,
aging like good wine.
two glasses on the table,
waiting... for the guest to arrive.
cant change the past,
and probably shouldnt.
what we've come to be,
step by step...
fresh flowers in the vase,
and the floors are swept.
as if to say 'thank you'...
for the chance to be!
Well written poem..waiting for someone with another glass 1 Great, Eric.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fantastic poem, like it.