Sometimes I think . . .
we are all but two legged steeds
ruled by stop watch and finish lines.
Some struggle to keep the pace.
Others never leave the race,
gates open and off they go
pasture be damned.
Some claim the roses
only to have them wither and die,
first place noted on fraying record book.
Has beens, almost and never weres.
Frenetic trotters round the track
until age ultimately claims its due.
Then woe the beast who suddenly sees.
Blinders stripped away
peripheral vision cleared,
too late the lesson learned:
there were others along the way.
I was simply galloping too fast
flying past, eyes ahead.
I should have known,
they were the ultimate prize.
lillian the home poet 
Ah, the joys of aging!
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Great post 😁
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Oooo! Lill this is deep! Thought provoking and need for personal reflection! Thank you for your words …
Sent from my iPhone
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This struck me as a brilliant way to take an image and then morph it at the end to make a profound point. So well done!
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