The Cup Not Yet Filled
I look in the mirror, yet what do I find?
An older version of a much younger mind.
Where is the young woman who was happy and free?
I find, instead, an old crone staring back at me.
Gone is the wonder at living each day,
Now there is merely survival and decay.
Gone is the beauty of innocence in life,
Now only the struggle to defeat all the strife.
But yet there must be a reason to continue this way,
Even if it means simply being each day.
Obviously, God has a plan which involves me yet still,
So here will I wait, that cup His to fill.