Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Found in a sheaf of papers, poetry inked by my great-great-great grandfather's hand, a reminder to remember His gifts, today.

Why wait until the new year
To live the better man,
When each brief day of few here
Each fleeting hour, we can?

Why trust some future fair to bring
Us joys the present may?
Why hope tomorrow's hands will fling
Us pleasures ripe today? 

1 comment:

mama said...

love the kids' photo, your new page, and the verse. our heritage is so rich!