Time marched like clouds across an angry sky,
While the golden children of the light paraded by,
Two by three they strayed into the night.
As thunder echoed in a resounding voice,
Bestowing omens of knowledge unto the mortals below.
Reason without understanding was now taking hold,
Giving way to a truth that all come to know,
That in life no man is able to retain his soul.
Therefore, a dark sadness grips the heart
as we watch the clouds of time race and part.
What once was in the bliss of youth a warm spring day,
Has in old age turned its face to a cold winters gray.
Times persistent ticking continues, as man ponders
his closing day.......
Little children, don’t you cry.
J. Allen Wilson © 2003