As If They Are Not Deserving

The thing I love most,
About the aging process...
Is observing the change of seasons.
And those who are totally unaware,
Of those misdeeds they do...
That come back to haunt them.
With a whining done,
As if they are not deserving...
To get their allotment for the cultivating,
Of those 'acts' that to us come back.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!