Spent

I spent my young years Dreaming
Dreaming of the day
When life and love and happiness
Would all come into play.

I spent my young years Wishing.
Wishing every moment passed.
So I could grow up faster,
And have my fun at last.

I spent my young years Dreaming.
Just dreaming of the day.
Then woke to find my young years
Had just been dreamed away.

I spent my middle years Hoping.
Hoping things would turn out right.
That all the mistakes that I had made
Would vanish over night.

I spent my middle years Trying.
Trying to reach those childhood dreams
Climbing ever up Life's scaffold
To reach the topmost beam.

I spent my middle years Hoping.
Hoping things would turn out right,
Then woke to find, in Life's long day
I was fast approaching night.

I spent my old years Praying.
Praying that God would forgive,
And when my day on earth was over
He'd take me home to live.

I spent my old years Searching.
Searching for the reason why,
We begin to grasp Life's meaning
Only when we come to die.

I spent my old years Praying.
Praying that God would forgive
Another soul who wasted life,
Who Dreamed, but failed to Live.

something's not quite right. . .

Sometimes I wish to write a line
But worry that it will not rhyme.

Then a rebel deep inside my soul
Says "would you please just let it go?"

And while I try to write free verse,
I slip back to Zuessian of course.

(I'm rather proud of my three unrhyming almost rhymes.)