I don't know if this is the correct place for this poem. It was in a magazine I get and I thought it is worth circulating.
As I get older I think of the past,
When everything was made to last.
To walk the lane with rose tinted glasses,
The rosier it looks as more time passes.
To play at school, to learn those rhymes
To meet my parents in happier times,
To say goodbye, to stroke their hair
To let them know I really care.
To meet my wife as yet to be
To feel so great, on top of the tree.
To walk the lane through good or bad
The best friend and love I ever had.
To go with friends to ventures bold
To dance, to laugh, to never be old.
To carry my children high on my head
To read them stories at night in bed
Oh dear here comes the final bend
I realise now that life must end
It was not decreed by the powers that be
So it's memories that travel this lane,
Not me.