The Same Thing

by John Herlihy

We tend to perform the same gestures and do the same thing,

In this big, bad, cruel world, we try to face what life may bring.

Beyond all other considerations, we tend to stick to a routine,

Minutes, hours, and days pass by not knowing what they mean.

The sun rises every morning and the gentle winds blow sure,

Thru turmoil, hardship, misery we do polish our hearts pure.

We don’t know what could happen, yet pretend as if we do,

In multiple decisions, we reckon and rely on what we knew.

A day will come when the light within us will snuff itself out,

The candle burned on the wick, was this what life was about.

We run through life as if running down an unravelling scroll,

We trip, we stumble, and then we fall as if life is taking its toll.

Things begin at the beginning and also things ending at the end,

Things start when they start, finish somewhere round the bend.

We take risks, make decisions and mistakes, suffer uncertainties,

On a journey into the unknown, still around the same mysteries.

Until the unexpected day arrived when she was finally gone,

Some days were sunny, others cloudy, the nights very long.

Now I look at things no longer the same, take the daffodil,

When once I did notice its beauty, now just on a windowsill.

Isabelle, like a beautiful flower, shining the light of her glow,

Knocked on the door of my heart, it is she I wanted to know.

She now but a whisper whose message I cannot quite hear,

Sorrow you cannot put a finger on that still produces a tear.

Snow continues to fall, rain pitter-patters, the sun rises and sets,

The wind continues to blow thru the trees with lingering regrets.

Things happen, life simply goes on, and with no one to blame,

But without the presence of Isabelle, nothing remains the same.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Sunday 15 June 202