A lovely flower dies

another blooms to take its place

a newborn child screams at the world

the mask of death slips over an old person’s face

 

Nothing is forever

nothing is for sure

the old must make way for the new

and only so long will the new endure

 

Sometimes I wonder

sometimes I ask myself WHY

I don’t want my living to be just something I do

to pass time till I die

 

But time is something

no one can control

last night I went to sleep a young man

I awoke this morning much too old

 

from the book: Some Gentle Moving Thing