Poetry

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THE TIME COMES AND WELL IT SHOULD,FROM HILLTOP OR BELOW THE TOWN,
WAITING FOR SOMEONE THEN,HAVE YOU COME FOR ME SIR,NO MUST WAIT LIKE
YOU AS WELL TIME AND SILENCE ARE BUT ONE,WHEN WE FIND THAT PLACE
PLACE WE ARE IN,TIME WILL ALWAYS SHOW TO-DAY IN THAT PLACE WE MAY STAY,AND EVEN PARTLY GET TOO KNOW A TEMPORARY MIGHT WHERE ALL WAIT
IN SIGHT,SO THEN HAVE YOU SIR THEN COME FOR ME WAS TAKEN A LITTLE
ABACK,AS WE ALL BE ON A SIMILAR TRACK,A FLEETING GLIMPSE DID TIME
MAKE ME WINCE,HOW TIME CAN WITH A BACKWARD,S GLANCE A FELLOW
TRAVELER WITH KINDLY INSIGHT,HER ASK WAS POLITE A PLACE JUST TO WAIT,WHERE A MOMENT WAS FATE ALWAYS IN VIEW NOW TIME ALWAYS LOOKS
NEW,GOD BLESS US OUR DAY'S ARE A FEW,HOW VERY TRUE.
Joe.

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