Well Lived Life

Well Lived Life

The measure of his life in time

A thousand months and then ninety more

And still he lives each day in full

And counts the living, not the final score

.

A maze of cluttered dusty rooms

Stacked high with living’s strife

A storehouse full to bursting

An accumulated stack of well lived life.

.

Here horded junk and life’s debris

Piled high in leaning towers of plunder

The fragmented pieces of a life well lived

Sparkling gems of wonder

.

Still to face each day with awe

To live in full, until his final breath

And gather the miracles of life

Keep them stored against his coming death

 

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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