I was walking from my mailbox to my house,
The other night, in the light of the moon,
And the glow of the landscape lights.
One of those daily habits, not much thought in anyway,
I started thinking, how long will I be able, and with Gods will,
To walk on the rocks to the mail box every day.
Everyone should cherish, even your basic routine's,
During this life's stay, for every thing we do, will end,
Someway, even this life, is a temporary stay,
The original: Tom Maxwell© 3/21/23 AD
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem