So special, our private personal time,
all alone to sort our thoughts,
creating, new ideas in our mind.
Reflecting on adventures we experienced in the past,
along with all the others, we decided to pass.
Thinking of where we are today, are we reaching our goals,
should we follow a new trail, some other way.
Reminiscing of people, from back in our past,
will our travel's ever cross again, was the time before, our last.
Dreaming of tomorrow, while looking through our past,
Never certain, what the future will bring, today could be our last.
Tom Maxwell copyright 3/29/2003
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
These are stressful times. Not knowing whether we will escape the virus