Poem, The passing years.

 The passing years.
Where does the time go?
When I was seventeen
My world had just begun,
I met you and life was fun.
I never thought of growing old,
There was always so much to do,
But then the years flew by,
And I, became aware of how
My life was slipping away,
And each day flew by
on wings, and I retired.
But time has moved relentlessly
On since then, and I am
Seventy six, now you are not
Here I have to get others
To fix things around the house,
Even that mouse.
I fill my empty days with writing,
History books, and so much more,
Which passes that time,
And now I know, where it goes!

Augustine Nash.