There’s nowhere left to go,
The years closed more doors than you knew were there,
Or what they were e’en for,
Maybe the years left are all maintenance,
Of what you’ve built so far,
Trying to keep the roof over your head,
Not get up and getting into your car,
Driving to where you always wanted to,
But never thought you could,
For life’s not presented as what you can,
But rather what you should.
So, here you are,
It’s not over, you know,
Plenty of folks live right up to their death,
Never giving up where they need to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment