It is far too uncommon a thing,
For men to pause and choose the joy of a sight,
Or, more, due it His praises ing.
So often we are time's cursed being, Struggling against the seconds and minutes with all our might, Losing hours, weeks, and years but never noting the sting.
The maturity of my children daily takes wing, Soaring along and guided by God's wisdom and light, But future becoming past will also regret bring.
So I have fashioned a bell in my heart to ring, On notice of sweet moments that bring my soul delight, For the heart watches purely for what a busy mind might in haste fling.
For the matter lies only in the moments that steal a breath and a gasp bring, And I desire my heart to be a partner, to spur me in the fight, To count the rest of it all worthless and treat the moment as king.