We hurry out of childhood into youth,
impatiently we spend the coins of time.
So little do we notice time, in truth,
we cannot see the reason for the rhyme.
The second act, our freedom here at last,
the freedom to do only what's expected;
to fight a battle rooted in the past
with images so blurred they aren't reflected.
And so we come upon our middle years,
our goal in sight, our focus to retire.
The "easy life" is music to our ears,
but life's momentum lasts till we expire.
Alas, before we take our final bow,
we take no time to be content with now.
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