Gander Story Poems: LIFE and DEATH 8-28-05

August 28, 2005

A gentle breeze,

a flowing stream;

the trees of green,

a pleasant dream.

Food I'd waste,

in hurried haste;

for all I faced,

in that rat race.

Why stood me here,

hand to my ear;

want for a cheer,

to come each year?

Accomplishments,

were not by me;

but all was He,

who lived in me.

There is no song,

now that I'm gone;

plant under lawn,

I say, "So long".

Sweat-less my brow,

no matter now;

not horse or cow;

my final bow.

This is increase,

I have my lease;

so let me cease,

and rest in peace.