Hurried wings

The years fly by with hurried wings

unclipped, unfettered, soaring high,

youth gives way to evening song

dreams unfulfilled, take ground and die.

 

Sometimes, in the starlight glow,

distant dreams will re-appear,

in age the thoughts that  we once  had

will come and make their presence clear.

 

What hopes we had, such plans we made,

what a world we’d see

when we were grown,

but time has clipped our hopeful wings

and age has bent our withered bones.