Observe the growth of the vine,
To understand what little time
We have, under this burning sun,
For soon you shall see none.

The years shall steal your health and vigour,
Weaken bones and diminish your figure.
But before you succumb to your earthly grave,
Remember – hope is not Time’s to enslave.

Fast grows the vine, without consideration
Of the dull, poisonous, creeping trepidation,
All creatures of a certain age begin to feel,
When the shadows of death become too real.

So live as you will, not as you must,
Do all that you can before you turn to dust.
And give no mind to the inching of time,
But seek the wisdom of the growing vine.

 

Prompt 5: Image prompt