Poemattic: Poetry and Art for the Soul

The older I get

The more I think about

my journey

on that one way road

I count the seeds I should have sown

and all the dreams

I abandoned on the crossroads

Sometimes my brain just wants to explode

There are so many mysteries

yet to decode

and memories begin to erode.

I think about time all the time.

Days fly by

minutes and hour seem shorter

And after all is said and done

All I want to do is make good

of the time

write a poem everyday

and on occasion make it rhyme.