Life is but crepe, a tissue-paper dream,
A blossom-born hour, a breath to redeem;
So bloom while the sun shines on petals of glass,
And call Today blessing, before it is past.
Evening makes her entrance
with a swish of sunset skirts.
Never one to shy from the spotlight,
she takes her cue from the nodding sun
and parades her jewels
on elegant finger-gloves.
She grins at the plebeians
who must keep to their morning schedule;
hers is the wild abandon
of those who know
they only have
Precarious precipice, this –
one foot in land of the living,
the other in the grave.
What to do,
when death’s throat opens wide?
Soak in sunshine,
breathe with virgin lungs;
count each second
on your knees.
Stop the clock with grateful gaze,
arrest time’s march
letting them drop
like seed to soil,
to reap a full harvest