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My life
is but a gift of time;
The sand
of life sifts down,
And I
may spend or squander it
In
frivolous ways or profound -
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It's up
to me to make the most
Of all
the sand that's spent
For like
the unkind spoken word,
There's
no recalling it.
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No valve
to halt the passing or
Call
"time out" - like the game;
The sand
continues down the glass
Each
hour just the same.
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I know
not the precise amount that's
Still
there in the top;
But I do
know that soon or late,
One day
the sand will stop.
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Then may
I answer when I'm asked:
"I did
the best I could -
I made
fair trades and did not waste
My
life...I lived for good."
Joan
Clifton Costner
Copyrighted.
All
rights reserved.
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