Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Priceless, Precious, Plebeian Prize





Its prize oft sighs through us without much fuss, fame or applause
A moment-metered montage that we almost miss because
Love’s laws are such that touch is a master of common art
And humble handiwork showcased in halls of human heart

How hardly we have held It, then Today fades from time’s tray
To join its predecessors in the land of Yesterday
And all the artists of the world cannot return its vim
Nor claim the prize of it after the size of it grows dim

Happy is he or she who has begun to realize
The camouflaged appraisal of this ordinary prize
That easily we overlook if we dismiss the keel
Of day-to-day routine and mien of plebeian appeal

…but in the come and go, ebb-flow of morning to nightfall
Life renders to its spenders a prize fitted for us all
Fashioned by sighs and smiles, rationed in duty, love and strife
It unfolds through Awareness of the beauty of this; life

© Janet Martin


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