I longed so for the limelight
When youth and I went roaming
But now my age and I are quite
Contented with the gloaming.
Though, sometimes, in an early morn
I wake my Lochinvar
And wonder if, indeed, I'm born
To still reach for a star.
I ponder it, a puzzlement,
And sleepless tears I weep.
I sniffle, and become content
And thus, go back to sleep.
Tomorrow is another day
Arriving all too soon.
But on that day I wish I may
Start reaching for the moon.
No comments:
Post a Comment