Life
A series of small joys compose our memory's tale,
Missing old days, measuring growth in the change.
Without the past, our essence would pale,
Like salt's sprinkle, flavor estranged.
Season our world with laughter and talk,
Memories not lost, but...
Missing old days, measuring growth in the change.
Without the past, our essence would pale,
Like salt's sprinkle, flavor estranged.
Season our world with laughter and talk,
Memories not lost, but...