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Summer Has Gone
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Life’s summer’s gone hair’s silver grey

Perceptive to the cold

Where is the youth of yesterday?

Where are the friends of old?

 

Many have moved some of them died

New ones have come and gone

But old age pains now multiplied

Give cause to not much fun

 

The days grow short the nights so long

Not as they were in spring

How joyful was your childhood song?

What will tomorrow bring?

 

Yet will you see tomorrow’s dawn?

Could life be as before?

If only one could be reborn

And live the days of yore

 

Alas of course it can’t be done

How foolish was the thought

But not when Christ God’s Lamb and Son

Reveals His true report

 

Then time and tide don’t mean a thing

Nor wealth nor house or car

Only the song we choose to sing

However strong we are

 

Under perhaps and yet beside

The One through whom we live

Hand in hand with Fire inside

That He alone can give

 

So come sweet soul live out love’s dream

Arise whilst yet you may

Come fill your cup from Heaven’s Stream

And live to live  today….. 


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Submitted: Saturday, November 19, 2016

Last Updated: Saturday, November 19, 2016

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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