Now, if a wiser man I was,
I’d walk beneath an autumn sky,
A country pathway for a friend;
I’d never stop to wonder why

But everyday, I stop and think
On why and what and who and where;
I miss the glowing of the fall,
That is so briefly, briefly there

In foolishness to pine away,
When air is fresh and sky is clear:
The wiser head’s the one that knows
To take the good days when
They’re here

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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