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Poetry: Life is . . .

The Tree Of Life

The limbs on that tree of life grow heavy
and many a bough will break
As all in life starts to age
the leaves get swept away.

Age is but a number
years pass and so do we
To bathe in the sweet slumber
as our souls finally are free...

Free to feel the peace of mind
and to dance with the wind
The smile will show so easily
when nothing is hid within.

Once those boughs break
all of us start to fall
Some are in their prime in life
and others seem to be cut raw.

A warning, must there always be
some sign of whats to come?
If only we knew the timing of things
would we really ever get the job done?

Final has no meaning to me
It doesn't exist as I truly recall
For in death there is life and destiny
Once we pass through life's other wall.


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Poetry: Life is . . .

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