THE DASH

          THE DASH

                                             by Marggie Rassler

         

                                                                         

                                                                            

Numbers, marks in tombstones stood,                   

Like sentinels at busy gates,

First the entrance we call birth,

Then the exit ending date.

 

But my focus came to rest,

Upon the dash, those little lines,

That separate the times

Ticking clocks with different chimes.

 

I pondered then how to fill that line,

How to drink life’s sap,

Before the dash begins to end,

And life’s road takes its final bend….

 

How to fill my dash.

In better ways to leave a splash!

While savoring moments in this life’s stash,

Those joyful chips right now to cash!

 

Have to make it count,

For those I love and live around,

To leave a testament that is sound,

Of faith in Him, the Crimson Fount.

 

Gotta  ...  fill my dash!  Have to make it count…! 1950-?

  ( written after a visit to a cemetery )