When You'Re Old

When you're old, Another will take your hand And lead you where you've walked before; And then you'd stare till a drop of tear Roll off from your wrinkled eye; "Oh, I used to walk these streets", you'd say, "In the days of my vigorous youth; But poor me, that was decades ago, For now my childhood is gone!" When you're old, The memories of old times Will never cease to flood your mind; Some will make you laugh so loud, And some will make you feel sore; "Oh, 'twas such a good time", you'd say, When you remember some days; Yet you cannot but grieve with a sigh When some moments are played. When you're old, Nothing else will really matter Than what you wish you had done— So much that if possible by then, You'd want to correct your wrongs; But alas, the table of time fast swinging, Might have swiftly passed you by; And all you'd do is wish and wish, To turn back the hands of time.