Life As A Day.

a poem by Denis Barter, Canada - poetry writer, author, poet

Life grants us four stations, in which we delight.
Morning, afternoon, evening and night.
Each division parallels the clear-cut stage
Of Childhood, Youth, Maturity, and Old Age.
Like the new day which begins at early dawn, '
So does life, when our first gasping breath is drawn.
Hours and days begin to run their set course,
Till midnight's stroke brings them to an end, perforce! l'
Thus starts our measured span which destiny decrees,
Though at what time it might end? That no one foresees!
While, with each new day's start, unknown hours stretch hence,
Prophesy, can be no more than mere pretence.
Morning, which we compare, to youth's early days,
Surely unfolds. Each goes their separate ways!
For some, even as the day begins, the clear sky
Darkens, when threatening storm clouds, gather nigh
Their lives a constant struggle in uncharted seas.
While others, blessed with a fair and steady breeze,
Reach the late afternoon of life Their goals achieved!
Though once, no more than a vague future perceived.
When at our temples, we see the first signs of gray,
Like late evening clouds which herald the end of day,
Life's envoys are sent, to warn the end is near;
Bids us hasten, if remaining hours we hold dear!
So when we reach night's final hour. Death tolls the knell
With promise of a lonely grave, in which to dwell!
For as we are interred within the swaddling shroud,
Thus ends our given day. Cloaked by darkness and cloud!

Rhymer January 18th, 2019..
Originally comp0osed in March 1996, I'm wondering which part of My Day, I'm at today?

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