Ideally, working through the day; <br />Instead, trade chores for hours of play. <br />A little longer ‘fore you start; <br />First satisfy your selfish heart. <br /> <br />No warning when the black night comes; <br />Ironic dark, lights works undone; <br />Past goals of day so quick dart back. <br />Your drooping lids: deep sleep’s attack. <br /> <br />Now, what great purpose served your hours? <br />Indulging flesh, in darkness, cowers. <br />What purpose served your final hours? <br />It matters not; they’re laying flowers.<br /><br />Aidan Keith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lilies-2/
