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| REFLECTIONS |
| THE OLD MAN REFLECTED BACK ON HIS LIFE, BEST AS HE COULD RECALL. A NUMBER OF SCENES HE REMEMBERED WELL, OF SOME THERE WAS NO RECALL. "MY DEBUTE TO THE WORLD WAS MADE," HE SAID, "ON A TEPID SUMMER MORN. NOT ONE RED CENT TO MY NAME HAD I, NOR CLOTHES THEN HAD I WORN. "I WAS NURTURED THROUGH THE CHILDHOOD ILLS, WEATHERED STORMS OF TEEN -AGE YEARS, EXPERIENCED LIFE'S MANY VICISSITUDES. WITH A MIXING OF LAUGHTER AND TEARS. "MY FAILURES WERE AVERAGE IN NUMBER, MY SCATTERED SUCCESSES WERE FEW. I GAINED A LOT THROUGHOUT MY LIFE. EXPERIENCED SOME LOSSES, TOO FROM FIRST TO SECOND CHILDHOOD DAYS TRANSITION WAS SMOOTHLY MADE. BUT MANY THINGS I BEGAN TO FORGET, ONCE HAD MY MEMORY STRAYED. ONE THING I WILL KNOW WHEN I DEPART, I'LL NOT LEAVE EARTH AS I CAME MY SOUL IS RICH, THOUGH I LEAVE WITHOUT A RED CENT TO MY NAME. WRITTEN BY SHELBY FORREST PERMISSION GIVEN BY AUTHOR SUBMITTED JULY 30, 2004 (Do not use this poem without written permission) |
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