Hold on to this, before it disappears
and leaves you empty-handed, clutching air.
You'll miss it as the cold, relentless years
stretch on and on toward death--so have a care.
Now pick it up and turn it toward the light;
commit each ding and dent to memory.
You'll polish it to shine after tonight,
and bless this call to perspicacity.
So put this moment in your treasure box
against the leaner times that lay ahead;
put velvet over it and turn the locks
on what was done and seen, and heard and said.
Now keep it sure as silver, dear as gold;
you'll live on this someday, when you are old.
No comments:
Post a Comment