Waking up everyday at the sound of church bells ringing.
Walking hand in hand with Papa each nippy early morning.
Sitting on the first bench,
Waiting for the priest.
The commentator reads the day's intentions.
The first prayers are said.
I look around and see the same faces.
Mostly at eveningtide of their life's years.
I see myself as one of them.
Among those who know that life is fleeting:
"Too short to hold grudges," as someone said;
"Too long for those who are waiting;"
and a "blink of an eye between two eternities."
Your life is borrowed
and so is mine.