PASSING OF THE TORCH

 Fleeting moments and then the years,

Youth whisked away as if by wind,
Each generation falls in line
To fill the place that's left behind.

At first it doesn't bother much,
Remnants of youth still linger on,
We think of death as far away
`Til closer home death falls upon.

We stop to focus for a while
Upon the fate of our own souls,
But then we whistle, life's still ours,
Still time to dream, to reach for goals.

The wrinkles creep upon the face,
We see them on our mother's first
And disconcerting feelings felt,
And sad emotions are disbursed.

We cry when grandma passes on
And watch as mother takes her place,
As the elder generation,
The place our mind tries to erase.

Most sorrowful is left for last,
The hardest turning of the page,
A kiss upon mom’s weary brow
Before we take her place in rage.

We look behind, see children there,
They now are growing middle age,
And curse the wind that took their youth,
And took our place upon the stage.

The final chapter turns to us,
And now we see our worn faces,
The one we saw just yesterday,
Now is gone and death embraces.

So fast the years pass like the wind,
And soon is gone the glow of spring,
And the planting days of summer...
Now to winter of life we cling.

Hesitating to climb the rung,
We see our children with gray hair,
The look of fear is in their eyes,
We know because we once were there.

The wrinkles line our once smooth face...
If only life had lingered,
A kiss upon our weary brow...
Death cares not for whom it's fingered.