The Passing of Time
We can't relive the past and oh, we hate to see it go
but water we once crossed continues its relentless flow.
There's nothing man nor beast can do to bring back what we had.
The passing of old times can be unutterably sad.
Creatures of habit that we are, we're not too keen on change;
if something could be done, no doubt we'd try to re-arrange
the way things fall into our laps, the way the cards are dealt.
Memories, like ice in whisky, gradually melt
to disappear like morning dew and leave us quite forlorn.
Getting older makes me wish, at times, I'd not been born.
There's still a lot to do, of course, it's not all doom and gloom,
and passing on is said to be just entering a room;
a room we enter all alone, without the friends we knew,
while friends we leave behind will mourn the old familiar view
of distant camaraderie, the good times that we shared.
Their sadness only underlines how very much they cared.