I took my soiled shoes off

because frankly my feet hurt

and promptly plopped down

in the warm wet sand

just happy to be sitting

I then massaged my most gritty

sore feet

poor feet! I thought

as I examined my proposed life

at hand

'Poor, Poor Life'

just where is it that I am going

I softly pondered as I rubbed

thinking of all those who came before

me who must have at one time or another

wondered these very same life provoking


they too must have somehow each in their

own dilemma rebounded to make it through

because I can clearly read their warm

inspiring epitaphs up there on the hill

why, Mr. John Jacob Jones lived to be a

roaring ninety-three and he was a proud

papa of five

and a few stones over from him rests a

Miss Margaret Ruth Chapel

I'll bet she was spry even at ninety-seven

as my eyes flickered over each legible stone

my own problems seemed not so grave

(pardon my unintended pun)

I then looked away from the markings of the

past and looked toward the ones who have

yet to be born after

I, myself like them up there have long since

dearly departed

perhaps they too, children of children yet

to be born will look at my very own grave

stone and wonder just how my life ended

and maybe started

well, its just a thought


(May 20, 1994 am)

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