Let drift away these lovely flowers;
And try to lose these lonely fears;
You’ll while away these longer hours;
And cry, if need be, ephemeral tears…
Ephemeral, transitional tears.
Take all that you will find today,
Reminders of a where and when;
Pack a little of that past away,
Then cast the rest to the trash bin…
Gone, into the trash bin.
Look at all these memories;
For sure, you feel the loss and sorrow,
Reminding you of yesterdays;
But, sing you, still, for the morrow…
Sing you, still, for the morrow;
Have a simple song for tomorrow;
As it proffers you peace; and,
Can tender to your spirit a sweet release.
Write your songs about moving seas,
And sing your sad songs of sorrow;
But, only call on good memories,
As you move forward to the morrow…
But, move forward to the morrow.
Moving on is more than troublesome;
And, like a surgeon with a knife,
You make incisions; you get yourself numb;
Leaving for yourself what benefits your life…
Only what’s good for you now; for your life.
Keep only that with which a smile is met;
Let go of pain and any trouble;
Open your soul to where there’s no regret;
And allow love of life to redouble…
Hard as that may be, let it redouble.
Looking at all those memories,
You will still feel loss and sorrow;
But accept that Life’s full of mysteries;
That its trail is wide, and not narrow;
And move along with a good spirit’s ease,
And, sing you, certain, for the morrow…
Sing you, certain, for the morrow…
With certainty, for the morrow.
Have a simple, soft, song for tomorrow;
As it proffers you peace; and,
Can tender to your spirit a sweet release;
Such a sweet release.
11-30-2015 (Wrentham, MA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem