Memories in Time
As days go by, we don't realize
Until we look back, how time flies.
Each day, although a different stage,
Reflects on ones of older age.
Once subtle past events are then
Distinctly recognized again.
And even though the past still fades,
Its memories hide in misty shades.
Imagining the future, we
Envision what we wish to see.
And fantasizing days to come
Unknown of what we could become.
The past, the future, all a blur
How can we be exactly sure
Of what we really wish for more:
The things to come, or those before?
And isn't it amazing how
We overlook the future now?
But memories of a distant past
Go on and never cease to last?
Is time eternal, endless and
A neverending thing to stand?
Or will it simply end in vain
With only memories to remain?