The Choice

Each morning one wakes and may wonder why?
One may feel it is just another endless day;
When much of the past makes one want to cry,
The futility of it making one's mood turn gray.

Yet if one will just look and notice that one is always surrounded,
By the warmth of a bright, yellow sun and singing birds in flight;
One can be filled with the beauty of nature, enough to be astounded,
And easily find the strength to do more than just hold on 'til night.

Having all these little reminders, only a small effort is needed to cope,
With troubles one has had and to the cruel world can unclench his fist;
If one just remembers the good times and can hang on with constant hope,
That things only get better each day, one chooses to live, not merely exist.


© 1992