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Now
Flowing springs of lifeless water,
Endless dreams devoid of luster,
On the edge of dull we totter,
When we join the older cluster.
As we age, our face grows stern,
Across our lives the joy spreads thin,
But we never seem to learn,
Joy is where we are, not where we’ve been.
The thing that makes old people older,
Is that they like to live in the past,
They think that now their lives smolder,
When they used to burn quite fast.
But the truth is rather clear,
Life is only a one-way path,
Don’t make the past your career,
Or you will face regret’s wrath.
