No new life from mine has sprung
to continue when I’m dead.
But -
something of beauty
my music has sung,
something of color
my work has spread,
something of kindness
and much of passion,
love of a man and pity for men-
things of the spirit that life will fashion
out of the now to live in the then.
24 comments:
Are you trying to tell us something?
shoot the make-up person, please.
but I love the poem
Oh,dear-
mid-life crisis?
more an end-of-term paper.
Great poem!Thanks
Where did you spent the afternoon?
Love the poem.
is this a before and after in reverse??????
oh my gosh,
how much did you pay for that look?
Ms Edna,
we just NEVER know what to expect next come flying across the Atlantic.
But, it is always fun.
I just woke-up and almost dropped dead from fright. Is this your picture from the attic??????
Tsk, Tsk, Tsk - we have been living it up.
new you ms edna
not very mode
if a picture is worth a thousand words. this one will put war and peace to shame.
but the poem is very original, thanks.
What have you been smoking, slugger?
The poem is lovely, I second that.
Oh, Oh, gone native?
I suspect you needed a counter for the words, well done.
this is NOT a curtain call? Is it?
NO!
Cálmate -
just needed a break
you do need a vacation, woman.
Ms Edna, dearest-
come join me in my France tour.
partial, maybe.
Sis,
come stay with me when you come in Sept. I will not close up until the end of the month. It will do you good.
Love-
Dear Clive,
schedule your itinerary to coincide with mine
and make Strasbourg that stop
in your “Gothic Pilgrimage”.
I would love to hear the organ.
‘Done’
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