Latecomer...

         comes just the same.

Though each day will gather sorrows,

         time shall pass until the 'morrow.

Latecomer,

          you are no different.

Wilting flowers spread their seed,

          in each Autimn's waning light,

               broken wings shall rise in flight,

until Winter's darkness falls,

it will matter not...at all...

that some run so furiously,

to embrace their destiny.

Latecomer...

        all will end, the same, you see.