When The Good Days Get Fewer Poem by Denis Martindale

When the good days get fewer, Lord, and further in-between,
Without the cure to stay assured, some bitter men turn mean.
No kindness spared, no gifts of love, and even Christmas pales,
It seems that no joy proves enough when even true love fails.
The mists of time remind us still of good days long ago,
As children who played on a hill adorned with pristine snow.
Or at the seaside, paddling there, wet sand beneath our feet,
We smiled and giggled, so carefree, with joys that seemed complete.
When schooldays ended, work began, and so we laboured on,
Perhaps to serve both God and Man, until each day had gone.
The poverty of 'way back when' caused us some dreams to spurn,
Now taxed, and taxed, and taxed again, by Governments in turn.

The single folks may mourn the loss should true love pass them by,
And loneliness seems like a cross, yet seldom can they cry.
And when the sicknesses begin, in hospitals, some rest,
To ask, 'How can Man ever win, or stay forever blessed? '
I've seen the mighty and the frail, reduced in frame and form,
Who limp along life's tragic trail, though running was the norm.
Bent down and humbled, each may ask, 'What use is life to me?
I can't complete a simple task. Is this my destiny? '
That may be so, to humble us, before we seek the Lord,
And the King of Kings called Jesus, the Saviour we ignored.
Perhaps this was the only way that some folks could get saved,
And blessed forever and a day, once all their sins get waived.

So persevere, as saints must do, to see that great reward,
Regardless, if good days are few, before you meet the Lord.


Denis Martindale.8th of November 2025.