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that's it
by Peter HumphreysI do not know
or shall I know
the measure of my life
is it that I wrote a bit
is it that I tried to be good
well most of the time
is it that I was loved
and loved to the limits of my heart
is it that I walked too many paths
to find the one path fitting me
is it that I joked too much
at times most serious
when the dead could not laugh back
is it that I loved my crazy home
where people still talked
and not treated as mad for it
or is it that I simply loved
the quiet, the lonely, the open places
where the heart nay soul could fly
unhindered in the western breeze
above the storming sea
yes
that's it 11/05/2015
Posted on 11/05/2015
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 11/05/15 at 12:21 PM I think the measure of a man begins at birth but it doesn't end at death, given he has left considerable impressions behind as will have him loved and reminisced and discussed till time immemorial. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 11/05/15 at 12:33 PM what better measuring device is there, than love? as long as one has loved and been loved, suffices a man to be measured in the full. |
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