Sand Poem by Nick Hilton
Sand
Are we but grains of sand,
Upon the beach of life,
With the ever moving,
Menace of destiny,
To snatch us from our strife.
Are we but corn in a field,
Lost in the summer heat,
With the ever present,
Harvest time,
To make us into wheat.
Are we but souls upon the earth,
Struggling for a worth,
With the ever looming,
Time of death,
To take away our birth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/17/2024 10:39:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
