Colin F. Jones


Have things been done as would my age permit,
It seems there’s nothing left to do but sit,
And though I use my mind in ways anew,
There still seems nothing left for me to do.
I scribble rhymes by keyboard on the net,
Upsetting folk I haven’t even met,
For people take it seriously you know,
Their burdens having had much time to grow.
But what will be, will be, all etched in fact,
Thus why take seriously what we can’t retract.
Forget the past for we are living now,
And History, well, it seems expired somehow.
And why live that which we have lived before,
As would a veteran live again his war.