Life

Along with age, comes some measure of success,
And along with it, a bitter irony of sorts.
Finding the failures of life are more important.
Learning more from the tumbles and the falls.

Becoming less aware of the reasons.
Swept under the carpet...as daylight appears under the door.
A brighter day will surely come.
Hope rides the rays of sunshine through our lives forevermore.

But as sunset draws the blinds on life,
The dreams we had all turn to dust.
In the end, nothing matters anyway,
By a generation's passing all trace of us is lost.

I have seen what's at the end of the rainbow.
There is no pot of gold to be found.
Just a lifetime of memories and regrets.
We come in and go out, alone.

If only I were an artist...
Imagining the colours of life, strong and bold.
Painting pictures of fields abundant.
Youth and all its joyous tales to be told.

And as age overcomes our presence,
Where are the ones we brought to the fore?
Listening for their pitter-patter footsteps,
Down the corridors of time, then all too soon, are gone.

A life that's worthy of more.
Lessons to learn and respect to teach.
So busy chasing dreams elusive,
Dreams we are sold, that seem to be always, just out of reach.

Success is the measure of a man,
And as he bows for his final curtain.
Failure stands alone and staring into the distance,
On a dark and melancholy dawn.