One-hundred-and-twenty
one day I'll become;
one-hundred-and-twenty,
that's too old, for some.
But time, though often on my heel
will shed perspective on what's real.
And time, my friend, through history's lens
much pain and sorrow will heal and cleanse.
So, even though I've often thought
and with my conscience wrestled and fought:
'There's never enough of time to spend
and why must all the good things end?'
With time, I might just realise
that time itself is not the prize.
A hefty price will always be measured;
it's time that reminds us why this life is treasured.
One-hundred-and-twenty
one day I'll become;
one-hundred-and-twenty,
that's too old, for some.
But, time, indeed, you are my friend,
reminding me of what I spend:
Each moment, though it's swiftly gone,
a wisdom, a memory, a treasure won.
