Odd, That

So Ken just threw himself out there with Something From Nothing. Ironically enough, I had something similar I wanted to post. Not one that's often given to verse -- love to read it, just not gifted at writing it -- I had the last two lines of this jingling around in my mind for a while. Ergo, I decided to VERY QUICKLY (get used to my disclaimers, BTW) throw a few lines in front of my last two and see what comes out. Maybe, someone can help this out OR just tell me to stick to writing my novels and short stories. I'll keep working on this a while as long as I see some hope for the little critter - but here's my first shot. Working title is: GIVE

Dawn, the infant's breath, passes done too soon.
Morning, laughter of a child, breaks the silence of a room.
Spring lilacs bloom and open wide in educated bliss,
Grasping for sun and mountain peaks in hopes not to miss.
Ebon summer nights, running free, stealing sips from life's sweet nectar,
Building castles in the sand, racing down life's rapid river.
Late Summers' eves and Autumn leaves peel back the days gone by,
For winds that blow and soon do show the cracking of the hide.
Cool night chill then ushers in the purging bearded snow,
and Winter's eve leaves heart to grieve for everything it knows.

I passed you by, I passed you by,
I flew the course a forever taker.
My hands stayed white, from morn till night,
NowI fly to see my Maker.

For time owns a man and one day shall lay him in his grave,
Then, all he holds for the life he's lived is simply what he gave.

Poetry