In the twilight hours <br />in the life of a man <br />when the spirit sours <br />as it must, 'cause it can <br />there comes realisation <br />of the yin and the yang <br />and the urgent sensation <br />that the song that he sang <br />through the decades of strife <br />and the nights full of bliss <br />when the meaning of life <br />was enshrined in a kiss <br />as he looks to the past <br />to a million decisions <br />and to those who were cast <br />in odd roles without vision. <br />And he takes a deep breath <br />as the brilliance sinks in <br />that the sight of one's death <br />and the Reaper's sly grin <br />wakes the force of a need <br />to convey to the masses <br />that the truth shows indeed <br />we are ignorant asses <br />though we think that we know <br />as we strut our stuff <br />and proceed with the flow <br />always clever and tough. <br />But the youngsters are like <br />all ignorant fools <br />as they say 'take a hike', <br />and embrace their dumb rules <br />seeing war as exciting <br />have no concept of love <br />act as if constant fighting <br />was ordained from above. <br />Of the three score and ten <br />only five are enlightened <br />though this talks about men <br />as in women a heightened <br />sense of softness resides. <br />Let us look at a mother <br />she's a woman who hides <br />not her love for another <br />she will patch up and mend <br />and at night fluff your pillow <br />she will walk as your friend <br />to the lovely old willow. <br />So, the gist of the thought <br />of my own twilight years <br />is that those who have fought <br />the occasional tears <br />over all the missed chances <br />and all the spilled hate, <br />over silly old dances <br />and pathetic debate <br />will have learned that a mother <br />is the one who will say <br />'please be kind to each other, <br /> let your world be okay.'<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twilight-thoughts/
