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

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