Saturday, January 24, 2015


By Beatrice M. Hanson

The saddest part of living
Is when our days are few
And we are but a shadow
Cast from the life we once knew.
Our productive years are in the past,
Our hopes, our dreams, our cares
Are almost covered up with time
While fading memories live only in the mind.
The soul is weary of life’s strife,

The trip has left its mark.
There’s nothing now, to do, but rest
And wait for dusk to turn to dark.