We met down at the city park,
Where old folk often go
And today he seemed unduly sad.
His thoughts were causing woe.
He spoke and this he told me,
In a mood of reverie;
''I hope the things I've said or done
Will merit memory.
A memory that goes beyond
The markings on my grave;
A memory that some way tells
The efforts that I gave.
The light we shine within our time,
In true reality
Sets firm the legacy we leave,
Through out eternity.
From the womb until our final act,
Is when we write life's rhyme;
And my candle's burning lower-
So much undone, so little time''.
Joseph Anderson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-candle-s-burning-low/
