Sometimes I wonder, What life is all about? Is it clear mornings in the mountains? With running streams and jumping trout. Is it airplanes, subways, Taxi cabs and traffic jams? Is it milking cows, mending fences, Cleaning barns and feeding lambs? Is it driving to buy an Item, The store has or so we�ve been told. Only to arrive and find That it has all been sold. Is it loving someone so much, You want to hold forever? Only to find in a few short years, You�re really not that clever? Is it quiet evenings by the fire, With your favorite dog named Rex? Or dressing in your boots and jeans, So people call You Tex? Is it work, work, work, All day long, every single day? Makes me ask the question, Is it true crime really doesn�t pay? Is it sitting in a classroom, To learn what they will teach? Or maybe in a different Church, To hear what they will preach? At seventeen we were sure we knew, We had the whole thing figured out. It twenty-five we weren�t so sure What we thought we knew, We began to have some doubt. At thirty-five we weren�t sure at all, And puzzled with a frown. But we were still sure, It would be revealed, Before fate brought the curtain down. At forty-five we understood, There is much that we don�t know. Not just of life but how God made things, Like birds or rain, sleet or snow. At fifty-two we just don�t know, Our brain has lost its fire. When it comes to life, We�re about as smart As an old, well-used tire.
Web Pages By Elizabeth Genna
