The Passing Of Time Poem by Heath Gunn
The Passing Of Time
A day, a week, a month, a year,
time goes passing by.
Your life is slipping past you,
in the blinkig of an eye.
Do we make the most of all
the precious time we have?
Patch up rifts with family,
or hear our children laugh.
And when you're standing waiting
at the great big pearly gates.
Will you hand on heart declare,
you don't want death to wait? ?
Heath Gunn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 7:49:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
