Your Life

Your Life

What future is held for me, what promises here,
What is there, to unfold, in the coming New Year,
What dreams will be shattered, what hopes quickly fade,
And what aspirations will pale in the shade?

No great expectations, no high profile for me,
Just take what is given, what happens will be,
All life there for living, whatever the day,
And thankful am I for what passes my way.

Not looking for glory, nor seeking for gold,
Just grateful for life, and a dawn to behold,
I lay down no template, but kneel to no man,
My own stamp on life will make me who I am.

So bring in the New Year and welcome the day,
When the shackles of last year are broken away,
And as clean and unblemished this New Year begins,
With no pre-set transcript, and no chartered sins.

Your life is your diary, your own epitaph,
From birth to obituary drawn as a graph,
A pathway to progress or a spiral descent,
Of what you all were, and what you all meant.

No judgement I give here, and none do I ask,
Some conquered in triumph, some failed at their task,
But who is the judge here, who values the rest,
And who sets the standard, – and who writes the test?
Mick.
( Copyright Michael Westwood 2016 ).

About the author

Mick Westwood
20646 Up Votes
I am a 71 year old retired coal miner, who spent 30 years working underground. Having time on my hands, and in order to keep my brain exercised, I decided to try to write poetry and put down on paper some of my life experience, and my hopes, dreams and other thoughts. I also do a little gardening, but I am hopeless at housework. Much to my wife's displeasure.

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