A measure of life

Sometimes the mind wanders and we think of what we could have been,

We think of the good we have done and on occasion the times we have sinned.

As time goes on we see a deeper meaning into the word life,

We understand that nothing comes easy and all people are faced with strife.


Money is a constant and we toil for the paper it is printed on,

A few schekels here a few loonies there, the bank accounts we depend on.

Love is a many splendid thing which is allusive and filled with awe and doubt,

Most of us have had our conquests and many have flamed out.


Our young the spawn of our loins now have started to sprout their wings,

They now have their own thoughts and want all sorts of things.

And so it goes day after day,

Would we have it any other way?


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