Friday, September 28, 2007

Poem by Bob

Time is a thief

he rests on his perch

flying unheralded only to search

for people like us who think we're not old

a skeletal finger so bony and cold

taking years from our lives with a sinister stroke

stealing our joy and robbing our hope

turning our laughter and love into pain

then along comes a puppy to renew us again


1 comment:

  1. Hi, Bob
    I read your poem and thought it very good. I was especially surprised by the ending, the last line, cool.

    Yes, time does steal a lot from us. I don't like this getting older business. Also, I wish I had a dog. Cats are so stingy with their affection. Dogs just keep on giving but cats, no, they want everything on their own terms.

    Also, I wish I could step out my front door into the wilderness. Around here houses are the predominant feature. I have to drive to find a good place for a walk.

    Well as you can see, I did find out how to get back onto google's log-on process. So....have a nice day. Don

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