-- One Hundred Years --
by John Herlihy
I have reached one hundred years,
When once departed, now arrived.
The hours filled with joys and tears,
To end up as one who has survived.
What happened that I came to be,
I don’t know, I have never asked.
The blind never ask what they see,
They merely do what they are tasked.
One hundred years as extended day,
Lived each of the hours to the fullest.
So many memories still have their say,
The extent of their influence limitless.
One hundred years as a fleeting hour,
From bud to bloom until the final hour.
- - - - - -
Copyright ©John Herlihy
Saturday 15 June 2024
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Rebecca
There are many flowers and plants that can reach 100 years if well-maintained. Or it could be just simply a metaphor for surviving to reach a point in the calendar signaling a new century. I'm fortunate to have had two uncles who have reached beyond 100 while still quite active in mind and body.
Ron