Time slips by quietly, as it holds on to life,
Yet death, ever so gently, falls into the shadows,
And awaits, as the leaves turn brown in the winter sun,
As young men turn to old,
And the cries of a baby turn into
The cries of days now lost.
Time slips by quietly, a whisper in the wind,
Yet death, ever so gently, caresses the winds of time.
Alas, can you hear the voices of youth,
As the winds of time carries it across the land.
Solemnly blowing, blowing until the voices
Can be heard no more.
For time has a way of escaping
From youthful beauty.
As death comes, time goes.
Time slips by quietly, as it loosens its hold
Yet death, ever so gently,
Falls out of the shadows