Present’s Honeyed Song
Today’s bitter moments may become tomorrow’s sweetest memories. Perhaps the present is a gift we only learn to cherish when it becomes the past.
“Present, present, what art thou?”
Drops of honey upon the heart,
drawn by seconds that buzz and dart.
Poured without pause into a dim jar,
Thus stands the past, while the futures’ far.
Yet often a hint of sour is there,
Of half-hope and utter despair.
In merrier times, will I still care,
If you weren’t always sweet and fair?
Yet someday, somewhere over trodden ways,
I’m caught saying: “Those were the days!”
Shut my eyes, and enter a dream,
Of these days that now bitter seem.
The tale of today’s a dream of morrow,
My delight with a tinge of sorrow!
Enlightened thus, what joy it brings!
The present’s this honeyed song I sing.
“Present, present what art thou?”
A present in a crystal orb art thee,
One I will cherish to eternity.
Comments