It is hard,
Coming in last,
Spending time,
Living in the past,
Where memories,
Are fading fast.

I sit and listen
To the tick-tock,
Of the wall-mounted,
Kitchen clock,
That doesn’t seem,
To ever stop.
(Just keeps marching on)

Like everyone else,
I was a part of the race,
But I struggle, lost footing,
I couldn’t keep the pace,
And here I am,
Coming in last,
Here I am,
Lost in the past.

I remember once,
The dreams of youth,
That feeling of having,
Something to prove,
But all that was proved,
Is that dreams,
Don’t always come true.

I sit and watch,
From the window,
I sit and wait,
In the shadows,
I sit and listen,
For the wall-mounted,
Kitchen clock,
To finally,
Tick tock stop.