I gaze upon
the stately trees
so gently swaying
in the breeze
and sense the joy
  that they are mine.

there was a time,
it occurs to me,
they were not mine.

In former years
their beauty grew
when other eyes
enjoyed them too.

So time decides
on later days
another claims
their beauty's rays.

For I am but
a landlord now,
and as Time
its hurried pace,
I'll be claimed
by grave's embrace.



1997 by Pasqual S. Schievella