In the twinkling of on eye
Time passes us by
In a fleeting moment
Dead skin turns to dust
Still I feel I must
Insist on going slow
Letting each moment linger
With plenty of room to grow
In each of us
A rite of passage
A special trip
Through
Our own hell's
From beginning unending
We search for soul
In the physical realm
Of human cells
The greatest reward
Is to always be growing
In your love
And in your soul
And even greater
The love we're showing
While we're gracefully
Growing old
...
Traveler Tim