The Days Of My Life Poem by Gerry Freeman

When the days of my life have been numbered and
All I've done has been weighed and defined,
Will my children be able to understand
Why I did what I did with my life.

When they gather around to remember me,
Sharing stories along with the wine,
Would I be proud to hear what they say of me
Or ashamed of my failure to shine?

All at once I can see oh so clearly now,
My remainder of days dwindling down.
I must learn not to spend them so freely now,
To make each precious hour count somehow.

When the tides of my life cease to ebb and flow
And the course of my life has been run,
There will still be so much I will never know
And so much I'll still wish I had done.

All at once I can see oh so clearly now,
As the end of the road comes in sight,
Those I've loved, not too well, but sincerely now,
Walking slowly away from the light.

But for now I must toil like the rest of them,
As the stone puts the edge to the knife,
I'll make my song as fine as the best of them
Because these are the days of my life.