The thorn’s prick no longer evokes a long-drawn sigh
The most intriguing question no longer evokes a curious little ‘why’
Satiated as I am, with life’s joys and sorrows
I am no longer concerned with waiting for the morrows.
Once I was young, ah, once I was young,
Once I was humble, and once highly-strung
Life then for me was sheer enchantment and joy
It lasted much longer than an unbreakable toy.
Today, I sit back and reflect on the past
Which was boundless, corner-less, and oh, so vast
Now my day is filled with dreams of yester-years
Which still a slow, but responsive nerve, stirs.
Gone are my days, gone with the wind
I was not very virtuous – I know I had sinned
My memory like a rubber-band stretches on and on
Until a loud bang tells me that my lovely days have gone.