When the old becomes new,
When familiar no longer is,
When one path becomes two,
When minds no longer kiss.
The ticking talk of the clock
Speaks of the great volumes of change,
Unyielding hands that mock,
Sev'ring all that remains.
And the past is far passed,
Bitter-sweet present all too fleeting,
A wistful sigh the last
Of a future without meaning. Ω
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