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Five hundred years from now,
School children will sob.
“Oh, not that bore Shakespeare,again!”
“We want Nicknamed Bob !”

But Today

I’m worried about next week,
When some debts are coming due,
And concerns about my family’s health,
Are constantly in view.

But today, the sun is shining,
And my heart is quite at peace,
For the moment, at this instance,
I’m not looking for surcease.

I have some years behind me,
And more yet still ahead,
But on the whole they pleased me,
More than filling me with dread.

For today, the birds spread wings of joy,
To embrace the world “this much”,
Just as do I, in reaching out,
To keep my heart in touch.

In the distant future, when I as memory,
Will haunt the hills and hollows,
Of a changed vicinity,
Then my touch will be as follows:

Folk will be seeing rainbows,
Or singing birds in flight,
And sometimes thoughts of mine,
Will then intrude upon their sight.

For tomorrow will be coming,
While I wend another way,
And my focus will not be with things,
That may be coming, but today.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . March 1, 2008