Will-o'-the-Wisps


You don’t grow old over night
It happens simply by degrees
The summer might find you in Florida
The winter welcomes your breeze.

Wherever you live
You are old you are you
And no one can steal that away
Be yourself every year to believe, you are here to stay.

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Little Morton Hall

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window by Richard de Dale We speak of forgotten sins to boast and pass the time, With laughter in our mouths our souls attempt sublime, Is confession the only cure for ignorant despair? A public cry for absolution fills the air, Thus man in consolation begs forgiveness fair.   Picture source  unknown   Poetry blogger (all poetry and art work not credited is possession of this blogger) 
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