I hear them stories Of how the days went by For the elderly Who once lived a life I witness everything in black and white As their eyes speak the truth Filled with love and light In front of me Are the trees they climbed And the stars they counted On a quiet friday's night Oh how I wish I could hear the rhyme Of the birds and the wind That once ruled the skies So I drown in the memories Of an age never known As I grieve at the loss of The wonders of a lost time
I worry that their stories might disappear with them.