The vanity of things we buy,
Collect, and put away;
The mundane lives of worry
That we live through every day
With careful planning or mere chance,
From New Year, through December:
To find then, when we’re finally gone
That no one will
Remember
Reblogged this on Crumbs of Expression and commented:
Incredibly versed. So purposely expressed. Read this once, and read it again. Means so much.