Everyday that passes
is like another page.
Tearing from the calender
that marks the days
of my life.
is like another page.
Tearing from the calender
that marks the days
of my life.
Faster they fall,
and as the time flies by,
I can't help but wonder
where the pages
disappear to.
The ground is littered
ith the memories of happy times,
stressful and despressing times.
The hopeful, and the
tearful times.
Pages wiped clear
of the darkness,
daily renewed
shadowing on my
sunny days.
Reminiscence clutters
the window into
my thoughtful mind,
always reaching for
clear skies.
Though I may try
to keep the pages
from fluttering down,
my efforts go unaided,
failing.
But days are numbered
and soon will end,
the life of but one,
hopeful, waiting
human.
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