Stumbled to the fact
It is the moment you act
Is the movement,
But the second you react
it is where you stumble
start your grumble.
A quiet, dusty tumble,
Where doubt's seed,
Begins to humbly fumble.
Tried to the thought
all the things that you got
it's all forgotten lot.

Rushed to the plea,
a whispered decree,
a silent notion,
but the instant you see,
it's a fragile illusion,
lost in confusion.
Yearned for the hold,
a story untold,
a future grown cold.
Finding copper in gold
all that we get sold
Indeed we are getting old.