New Years Ballad

Centuries old trees are common But centenarians on The street are a rare sight indeed, As rare as it could be. For hours slip and days melt away, And as youthful spring fades, Silver strands race to O’ertake. Faces once gleaming with dreams Become creased and weary, So cherish each fleeting moment To do good and repent! Swap the temporal for the true, For an Eden of your own! Poem Released Into Public Domain