What is it about the

passing of time, that

makes me find rhyme,

in the simple actions

of the world, as it passes,

and in my daily trespasses?

Each year the color of

my hair fades a little

more to a dull silver,

and the size of my

clothes fluxuate in time

as if to some annual chime.

More years pass, and the

memories of youthful glee,

innocence and secret sins

chase me along my path

whether on bumpy roads

or in quiet sandy coves

More weary each year.

I find distraction

in the simple truth

that time must go on.

Just another stitch sewn

in a long flowing gown

It is the natural order

of life and death, that

all things must age

and fade so that a

new generation can strive

and flourish in their lives.

But still I must say,

that the passing of time,

makes my heart sadder

than it should because

life is a boundless journey

and, for that, I am not sorry.