Seasons And Dreams
He dozes in his fireside chair;
Wears on his face a dream,
A dream of happy days
So long ago with family spent
His mother’s lovely smile
Still carried in his mind
And never lost.
By waterside with mates in sun and frost,
Golden days - all.
These days, the springs approach so fast,
Or is it sands of time?
The once long summers never seem to last,
No cheer for him with mates all gone,
The summer’s not the same.
The autumn of his life already passed
And winter waits to play its deadly game.
He wonders
When time is up does someone call your name?
He thinks not - it matters little to him.
He will leave with few regrets;
Life has treated him kindly,
No need to ask the question why?
He knows when time is said and done.
Life itself is nothing but a dream.
† Ken Richens
(Ken wrote this poem weeks before he died aged 83.)
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