I shall grow old perhaps, but not today, not while my hopes are young, my spirit strong, my vision clear, because life has a way of smoothing out the wrinkles with a song.
I shall grow old, perhaps, but not today, not while my dreams remain a shining shield, my faith a lance, and &ls;neath a sky of gray, my colors wave upon the battlefield.
I shall grow old, perhaps, but not today, not while this pen can write upon a page, and memories turn Winter into May, shall this stout heart be brought to terms by age?
I shall grow old, perhaps, but not today, and scorning Time who would enlist my tears, I stand convinced there is a better way, of occupying all the coming years.
I shall grow old, perhaps, but not today, in my own style and in my own sweet time, no night so dark there does not fall a ray of light along the pathway that I climb.
Just say of me, when my last hour slips like one bright leaf to softly rest among the others... - Grace E. Easley
- Grace E. Easley