The following is a poem I wrote in July 1978. It's interesting for me to read in 2010 because my beard has indeed turned white. I was able to find a nice fireplace (among many) at dreamstime.com, which I purchased for use in this blog.
Confusion
I sit by the fire and wonder why
the flowers have gone and the kittens cry.
Oh to the sun, please return soon
and send us a gift of a saltant moon!
This I pondered as days grew cold,
as my beard turned white
and the years became old.
Though I knew the answer:
Time remains but the years die.
Seasons fall and kite strings fly.
Children replace our aging hearts,
and the universe lives on in isolated parts.
___________________
