Seconds into minutes, then minutes into hours…
Hours into days, that are filled
with springtime flowers.
Then days turn into weeks, then months turn into years…
Before
you catch a glimpse of it, the time has passed we fear.
Years can be like
bookmarks, to help us remember when…
We laughed or cried, or reached the sky,
and what we did back then.
They mark the times within our lives, when things did
come and go…
Of sun and rain, and heartfelt pain, and winter's sleeping snow.
Seconds
into minutes, then minutes into hours…
Hours into days, that are filled with springtime
flowers.
Then days turn into weeks, then months turn into years…
We try to
make the best of them, for the time that we were here.
Years turn into memories,
we build them every one…
Of times we made, from hours and days, and moments filled
with sun.
So when the days have passed us by, and there is naught to do…
I
look through them as bookmarks, and memories of you.
Ron Walker
March
2000
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