Sonnet 97, Life Has A Purpose Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Flowers shall blossom in summer’s own lawn,
Colours are given variable shades;
That into months ahead decays and fades,
For life has a purpose and death's its pawn.
If we know too late when all in all's gone,
That gold is all given so it then degrades;
Then there is no future or love that pervades,
For meaning then aimlessly carries on.
Yesteryear worth can have vision to hold,
That enlightens the past once was so near,
We were not able to clearly see all.
Memories passed need not to become old,
If we still remember to keep them dear,
Though after, summer reappears the fall.