As life passes by, memories and thoughts multiply.
And the old poet begins to silently cry,
Will he have time to set them to rhyme
Or will they be lost with the end of his time?
Should he begin with the happy or sad,
The old or the young, the good or the bad?
As he looked back over his life,
He thought of the joy he shared with his wife.
In that split second he instantly knew,
The important poem that he just had to do.
The wise old poet begins to openly smile,
As he began the last poem that may take awhile,
Capturing the moment when they first kissed,
And the life it lead to that he would never have missed.