In the autumn of life, when everything has been said,
All hopes and expectations are all but not yet dead,
Misty memories are all there is left to cling to,
With alzheimer knocking at the door too,
The echo of days long past,
Flood the failing mind,
Oh, how very fast,
Nothing to find!
In still warm cinder,
One may still be able to get,
Something worth the trouble to concider,
Something to forget, many to cherish, more to regret,
For not always is the sea placid, sometimes it poses a threat.
Whatever colours may our autumn display,
Be it of golden brown or even gloomy gray,
Whether our mind is dull or sharp as a knife,
Man, it’s really doggone cool to be alive!