Life is an uncertain thing
When you've reach a certain age,
Like a book of uncertain length
Slowly being read, page by page.
The chapters of a passed life
Are there held in the hand,
All the people, places, events
Both planned and unplanned.
Things of joy and happiness,
Some acts maybe of regret.
The sense of anticipation at
The things to come yet.
A mishmash of experience
Delicately mixed and flavoured,
Each day of remaining life to be
Eagerly grabbed and savoured.
There's gratitude for every day lived
When you've reached a certain age
Knowing it can't be too long now
Before you reach that final page.
