The time has come the poem said

for you to write that I might be read,

and so I took my pen in hand

and wrote the words at its command.

The words spewed forth as I obeyed,

the poem wanted its glory displayed.

It shimmered, it glowed, it shone with delight.

It showed off its power as I brought it to light.

The words began running and singing and dancing

and then quiet and sorrowful and then romancing.

Up one side, cross over, now run over there,

now quickly, now slowly, now gently, more care.

Swiftly they tumble, they rush and they pour,

then suddenly they stop. I hear them no more.

Where do they come from and where do they go?

Alas it's unfortunate, I really don't know.

If I knew I could coax them to come out and play,

when I chose, instead of awaiting their stay.

But life is just like that, it ebbs and it flows,

like words in this poem, it comes and it goes.

We know not our journey, it's only begun.

We just step out in faith and walk towards the sun.

And slowly or quickly our journey is o'r,

and just like this poem -- there is no more!

It is important that you pay attention to what life brings you. Stay present and enjoy each moment.

Fran Watson