Saturday, March 03, 2007

for the ones who are growing up

fly by my window,

o time and space

where are you going?

it’s not a race.

people hustling and bustling

like we all care

for one thing that drives us

is the home that we share

with love and laughter

sorrow and tears

kept in high wonder

these beautiful years.

for none we do realise,

for which do we fight,

is what we may finally cherish

if slow down we might.

rainbows and butterflies

come hither yonder,

but sweet youth and tenderness,

won’t come again.

So cherish your youth’s September,

while it still lasts.

for that which comes after,

seems like time passed too fast.

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