A contemplation, a perpetual thought,
Of things I’ve looked for and constantly sought.
Through all the days of past and present,
The countless souls I’ve met.
Those taken to kindly & others unpleasant,
Though none that I regret.
I am the fruit born of all your labour,
That few remain would care to savour.
We dined together and shared times jolly,
But to dwell, live in it all would be folly.
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 1:16 PM UTC
A contemplation, a perpetual thought,
Of things I’ve looked for and constantly sought.
Through all the days of past and present,
The countless souls I’ve met.
Those taken to kindly & others unpleasant,
Though none that I regret.
I am the fruit born of all your labour,
That few remain would care to savour.
We dined together and shared times jolly,
But to dwell, live in it all would be folly.