I cannot help,
But feel strange,
Travelling through,
The various stages,
That life presents me,
With the passing of Time.

Physical growth takes over;
I was once a child,
As I remember,
Every now and then,
Only a blink away,
Yet whilst looking
Into mine own daughters' eyes,
I feel strange again.
I search for mine own,
And see,
My child,
A remnant of me,
An adult tomorrow,
And me an eldered fuss,
Awaiting my pass,
To the Here-After.