Once so helpless, not any more.
Each month changes in subtle measures
Make it difficult to ignore
The truth that our lives are declining
Their lives are reaching for their peak,
Proficiencies and skills refining
Each one unique while we’re antique.
Might we survive until they marry,
Our grandkids with careers ahead?
Might we their tiny babies carry,
Before at last we go to bed?
We pass to them that when we rest
We own a hope for life above
Their own faith is our preferred bequest
For our invested faith and love.
by Ron Unruh, May 12, 2014
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| Taken at Easter 2014 |
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