Generations

New generations come and go,
There's a continuous flow,
Today they are here,
Tomorrow they're not,
They disappear,
This is their lot,
They start with a passion well
Putting a sperm into a cell,
Go through their lives
With children and wives,
Work, finagle or sell,
Think when they die
They'll go to heaven or hell,
But they just turn to dust
As all mortals must,
Their reason to be
Does puzzle me...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2008 Alfred Charasz