Friday, June 5, 2009
At five, I think life is a bag of candy.
At ten, a bike is all I want, it's so dandy.
At fifteen, I meet a girl, who sends me flying.
At twenty, I have a son, oh, he's so trying.
At twenty‑five, I try to make my million.
At thirty, I start to wonder, maybe I don't need a billion.
At thirty‑five, I have it all, except?
At forty, I stop running, and begin to regret.
At forty‑five, I wonder, what's it all about?
At fifty, I only now start to find out.
If only in the beginning,
I had known the meaning of living.
Candy and bikes are just fine,
but they don't come close to the eternity of time!
Why did it have to take so long, so long?