The petals fall,
The robins call,
The season changes once more.
Though time seems to stall,
In man’s romantic gall,
No moment has an encore.
Each second that flies
Is one that dies,
Filling the grave of the past.
Life’s a gift in disguise,
Not one to despise.
Don’t walk with your eyes downcast.
The clock strikes the hour.
Let’s not be dour.
The end is always drawing near.
Within us is the power
To not flee or cower,
And to trump our mortal fear.