DEATH

Stories to be told, and mysteries of old
As the years of our lives quickly unfold
And take our youth
To bring upon us the old age we  fear.
Voices and footsteps from our past
of loved ones of yesteryear,
Quietly haunt us, while our memories last.
We walk down the halls of life,
not always realizing where we go,
not hearing the doors of time
closing behind us, never to open again.
How many things would we have done differently
had we only known
There were no signs of warning along the way.
But there were tolls we found we had to pay.
The childhood of yesterday still lives within us.
Until we look into the mirror,
and see the old man upon us.