I wanted to stop by the stream,
For a drink of the cool running water,
And perhaps a plunge,
To wash the dust off my youthful face.
But time led me on,
‘Hurry, the banks’ about to close’,
And quarter life crisis’ here,
Age is catching up,
‘gotta run’ no time for wondering.
So I ran along,
Leaving behind fun and rest,
Not taking time to stare at the misty eve,
For I was infatuated,
Now times’ a phantom in the wind,
And I, a sad, old gent
Unhappy and amnesiac
For I cannot remember
The color of grass, or the bloom of a rose
See, I was too busy, ogling at time.