Don'T Die With Music Still Inside You Poem by harry hayes

Perchance for times of darkness,
God gave us memory lane;
Where life is as it should be,
And shall on heavenly plane.

Yesterday, it lives forever,
Our days of youth are stored;
Within the mind a treasure box,
And the only key is yours.

The old house is still 'a standing,
Loving parents by the gate;
Smoke billows from the chimney,
Kettle whistling on the grate.

Outside the sound of children,
Hop Scotch and bat on ball;
The children you used to play with,
Have aged, no, not at all.

There's comfort in the attic,
But it's not a place to dwell;
The echoing of your own thoughts,
In excess, a living hell.

Most people are not quite happy,
But disguise the fact somehow;
This life was meant for living,
Our time, forever now.

In truth, these are the best of times,
Yes, flawed in many ways;
But too soon, your younger loved ones,
Will call them 'golden days'.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thank you for reading Happy days