All the yesterdays are gone,
lost in the darkness of night,
alone with memories we long,
of happiness that were bright.
Time is always on the move,
moments often pass you by,
it wasn’t meant to be smooth,
when it’s gone we give a sigh.
Sadness consumes one’s soul,
when our life has been spent,
death always makes it’s toll,
wondering what it all meant.
It is merely a mortal illusion,
an invention of our own mind,
caught up in society’s confusion,
underestimating the nature of time.
Our lives are over before we know,
gone is our young, youthful glow,
air turns cold and the wind blows,
from start to end, a picture show.