Now you may ask where did that come from.

While I was sitting here looking out the window thinking
about nothing in general,that thought came to me.

I get up each morning,
do the same things that I have always done
but something is a bit off kilter.
I have lost something along the way,
can feel it but not see it, not a tangible item.

I am in a quandary, about the timeline of my life.
I was young a few minutes ago,
now I look in the mirror, only to see this stranger.

I've seen friends pass on, thinking soon it will be me.
I am not afraid of that, not the way one would think.
What I fear, is putting the finishing touches on my dreams.

Gazing further on down road yet to come, I see myself, old,
no that can't be me.
That person has yet to spread her wings, to fly. I need
time, more time.

Turning from the window,
my arms enfold my body as a chill passes though me.
I have come to the conclusion,
though hard to bare, that we can't beat old father time.

As for me and the music, well
I guess I have come to realize that things can not stay the same,
no matter how hard we try to hold on.

So, as for the first words written, when did the music change?
It hasn't really, the music is just playing a different melody.

08/06/2013

Posted on 08/07/2013
Copyright © 2024 Carol Grant