by Don Blanding
I try to live each day
In such a way
That when tomorrow makes today a yesterday,
I will have woven into the fabric of my life
Some gay design,
Some patch of Color,
Bright to please the eye
So that, in the graying years to come,
When all the quick responsive senses dull
I may look back across the patterns of my past
And, in my memory,
Relive all the joys and pains
Of of all my well lived yesterdays.
West of the sunset stands my house,
There.....and east of the dawn
North the arctic runs my yard
South to the pole runs my lawn
Fabulous cities are my loot,
Queens of the world mine to wed,
The Couches of kings are my bed.
All that I see is mine to keep,
Foolish......this fancy seems
But I am rich with the wealth of sight
And the coin of my realm is dreams.
A handful of memories
A small cup of sorrow.
A flagon of happiness
In faith in tomorrow.
A measure of taking
A measure of giving,
A curious jumble
This business of living
When I have a house.....as I sometimes may,
I suit my fancy with it in every way.
My grass house stands by the open sea,
On a bit of beach that belongs to me.
And I paid.... but don't remember the price
For this my small acre of paradise.
The great southern cross hangs nightly over my door,
And the moonlight throws silver across the floor
While the surf makes thunder along the beach
And the rainbows end is always
Within my reach.
Last updated November 17, 2022