Milestones

This is a poem that my grandmother wrote shortly before she died in 2002, at the great old age of 93. I post it here for the internet archive to save.

As we travel along life’s pathway,
Thinking of days agone,
Stepping lightly on trouble,
And dreaming of days to come,

We little guess that each moment,
Each day that passes by,
Leaves a flower to blossom,
Or a leaf to wither and die,

Flitting from pleasure to pleasure,
Leaping over chasm and hill,
Never holding out a helping hand,
To those who are smitten ill,

We little guess that each moment,
Each day that passes by,
Leaves not a flower to blossom,
But a leaf to wither and die,

Milestones we build each day,
To guide those who follow behind,
So try to build a flowery way,
To cheer the weary one’s mind,

Let they who choose to follow,
Greet with a thankful smile,
The cheery rose covered milestone,
At the end of each weary mile.

– Edith Chamberlain. 2002.