Century passed as if, it was a bird on the wing.
Momentary uplifts, in the eons of time
Recorded incidents of great import.
Now only remembered in history lessons.
Wars killing fields forgotten, and the century
Swept like the bird on the wing never pausing
To reflect on the lonely hours spent gazing at the past.
Yesterdays headline, tomorrows sorrow, no change
Only the end of one millennium and the same old
Routine starts over, and we accept it as mankind’s due.
Though where is the love in life that we promised
Ourselves is it lost, in the mists of time?
That one moment when we climbed hills, and
Stood together holding hands thinking we had, all the world
At our feet the century has glided past
Now we no longer soar as the bird on the wing.
Simply accept that time has passed, and we have
Moved on as the century closed its door on old lovers;.
