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the days march onward
one by one they fall by the wayside landing silently like the autumn leaves in the field
nearly unnoticed amongst its long lost brethren
now empty of life and reflecting only the shadows of what beauty they once held
awaiting the winds of time to cast them into distant memory
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where is the reason?
where is the rhyme?
where do the days go?
where goes the time?
why should we care so?
why don't we know?
why do the years fly
and nights pass so slow?
who knows the answers?
why wont they say?
so many questions
but no answers today
I'll look not behind me
for nothing is there
I see not the future
and really dont dare
today is the one thing
I have and I hold
from the days of my youth
and as I grow old
so without all the answers
and with questions galore
I'll take each day graciously
and come back for more.
__________________
a clear conscience is a sure sign of a fuzzy memory
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