Forgetfulness Away Brushes
P
Peter S. Quinn
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Do what you must - do it quick,
Time is of no former wail;
Our life is so often very slick,
Coming around like dog's tail.
What will you say or do,
With nothing to go on from here;
Everything is still up to you,
To leave at nil and what to share.
Roads are coming among the rushes,
Playgrounds of time waiting;
Forgetfulness away some brushes,
As the moments are gradating.
Memories are in dripping distance,
Going to somewhere and main road;
Our own had their own existence,
To break away or make their mode.
Life is always so much variety,
Nothing ever stops to wonder aside;
Of all those natures pure rare ty,
That inside a thought might hide.
Flowers are falling with their seeds,
The future decides their fate;
There is plenty of fable and steeds,
To give it each weight and bate.
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