Poetry

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Month of may came and went,and reached its own extent;no day became its keeper,and time is
always deeper,the Month of June so soon,Life comes so slowly then,its whisked away,tell myself oh;
another day as though i made each minuet say life is what it may well be;is it all down to what we be
allowed to see;a Tree may know a leaf that falls,did it then know why life is at all,who are the living,
GOD shows the dead,what's been said;where time is read,and light is fed;take the day,it fails to
stay;like yesterday,best pray;its THE MONTH OF JUNE TO DAY.
Joe.

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