bed of nails

Life is a bed,

Half of nails, and another half of roses red.

It changes seasons,

Does usually without warning,

From the sweetly soothing to painful sting,

Of joy to mourning.

Whatever life brings,

Live it still, with thanksgiving

Chin up, hang in there till it swings,

As it will, nothing lasts forever, so it is written.

The chill of winter precedes the thaw of spring,

And joy comes in the morning…



Picture credits – Amity