Where does youth go? How can we make it stay?
I do not feel this old, how did I get this way?
When I was but a child, not so very long ago,
Years would creep and crawl, seemed so very slow.
Now I look in the mirror, and see a stranger there.
Where is that youthful gleam, what happened to my hair?
It seems each year I live, I lose another friend,
Sister, father, my best friend, will it ever end?
Death waits for one and all, there's no escaping him,
But passing years can be a joy; they need not be so grim.
This thing called life is not a gift; it's only ours on loan,
So whether brief or whether long, make this life your own.
Youth is but a stage of life, though wondrous ‘tis true.
Embrace the fullness of your life, surrender its just due.
Lift your thoughts from this dull world, see what lies ahead,
Think of what marvels wait, long after you are dead.