Questions

I don't remember my first question asked Might have been to my mother while in my crib I basked Or maybe it was to my father when he kissed me goodnight Then he said a prayer for me and then he turned off the light. Many questions I have asked since the day I was born Many questions I have answered and many I did mourn Some of them were the truth, but them I had masked I don't remember why, but I remember they were asked. Questions are needed to understand our life Answers are needed so we too might avoid strife Life is full of questions and are as many as drops of rain And like rain drops not two questions are really the same. Questions will be a part of us until that day we die We will come across them daily with who, what, where or why I dread not the future, but I do dread the past I also dread the day, not knowing which question of mine will be last. Randy L. McClave