Life's Door

 Our Days in which we contend

are measured by the sequences of change again.

Old friends pass away,

 And weeping spouses pray.

Time now pretends to be a friend,

Yet it is only an omen,

of a preclusion to an end.

Clocks tick,

And the sun makes another day,

Leaves fall,

A chill comes,

And another friend passes away.

Double changed

By measured sequences

Stolen from these lips of mine,

Fooled thrice into believing

by the folly of time.

For there is a chill in the air once more,

And I wonder

Who it will be next,

To exit through my life's,

ever changing door.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004