Gone are the memories,
Slipping away with age,
Ever so quickly,
Yet I'm not afraid.
Descriptions come slow,
When they wish to appear,
Readily, perhaps tomorrow
Why particular ones
Some day I'll learn,
Now the answer will not appear.
Reality has struck, time waits not,
Time erases sorrow and tears,
Slowly, but quickly we grow.
Wearily we accept that time ticks,
Slowly at first but the pace quickens,
Step by step we accept the dance of time,
Entering a new phase of growth.
Here we recall that we may have forgotten,
Now and again a memory will surface,
Ends are never quite a true end,
Death is but a way to treasure soon forgotten memories.
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