Sunday Sonnet!

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How little time within each gifted day,
Distracted by seductive transient thought,
We find a word of gratitude to say
For unearned blessings freely life has brought;
Pre-occupied with matters that decay,
Fixated on pursuit of worldly wares,
Surprisingly we stop in sheer dismay,
When over-burdened with unasked-for cares;
Mere mortals would themselves disquiet save,
Were they upon true values to reflect,
And such that must desert them at the grave,
With hope-inspired confidence reject;
More wholesome be a dose of daily thanks,
Than dividend and interest from the banks.

©Meanderings 2018

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