Over the edge of a foot bridge, I gazed into the stream of time looking for my reflection, instead I found it reflected in me. #25wtT
You are the portrait of all you behold,
each vista a hue in a story told
Of those you’ve loved despite possible loss
for every true artist finds gold in the dross.
You are the symphony of the sounds you hear
the conductor poised just within your ear
Your instruments raised, as you follow along
the path of a composition paved in song.
Your eyes are facets in a gallery of mirrors
a montage of venues, each polished and clear
Our lives are entries in the register of time
a scintillating life-story written line by line.
What a pleasure. Thank you, Skip.