One thing is sure; from birth, all humans age.
Can one delay the process, slow the rot,
remain at peak performance's best stage;
eternally as beings time forgot,
young and silly...never quite maturing
if youth's impetuosity remains ?
Each new thought, the concept less alluring,
day in, day out, to toil and make no gains.
One consolation, this is God's design.
Grows there a weed without Creator's thought?
Rich are we in His blessings...yours and mine.
By grace, with mercy, is redemption bought.
Marvellous to know this frame will be made new.
Moments in between of doubt and, yes, there've been a few.
Quote; Romy Schneider
See more poems by cherryk
View this poem
Comment on this poem