The Corridors of Life
The Corridors of Life
Through corridors of woodland, in and out as I go,
Thinking of friends I use to know,
Dreaming of a happy time long, long ago.
Reflecting on where they have gone,
Some departed, some live on.
I move to old album and look at a dear one
I use to know when I passed this way before.
In youth I wondered the country over, but no more,
In twilight years I trod gently, not knowing the score.
Memories cloud my mind and I am haunted by a time
I could have conquered the world and still be free.
But now, as I gaze at old phonographs, I can see
Reflections of what I once was, the real McCoy,
When life was filled with fun and joy…
But Youth Transforms as fast as time goes by.
Clouds swiftly float with the breeze above.
While young couples search for true love
I look for symbols and find turtle dove.
As time speeds up, I slow down the pace.
I understand my limits and depart the race
Still hoping to find an exit from this maze.
Gracefully, I bow out, taking up my position
Without a qualms or propositions.
In the end the choice in mine, I make the decisions.
Old age is something that comes to us all,
Like the seasons, spring, summer, and fall,
To us all it comes, long, short and tall.
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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