Years
As I wonder through days gone by,
I listen to the echoes of my own cry.
Once I danced through a grassy field,
now I stroll as far as my knees will yield.
The lines around my smile,
oh, how I would laugh for a while.
Where did all those years go?
How will I ever know?
Tomorrow is yet another day,
I will still remember yesterday.
Am I now old?
Have I reached the age of gold?
Copyright © Andrea Simpson | Year Posted 2007
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