At the collapsing edge of the shrinking time
in the fading gleam of the pale twilight hour,
down the misty memory lane masked by shadows,
I see me walk my children
on their changing contours of childhood,
hands held with paternal care,
with the nestling warmth of everlasting love,
as they grow wings, and fly away later.

An ancient mariner, self-disposed,
I navigate across many rough seas in tempest,
looking for propitious winds of love and...