As the seasons change,
So shall we my love.
As the night transforms to day;
As the elements evolve;
Our skin shall form ridges,
Our bodies shall degenerate.

Change is but a primal fear,
Inherent in us all.
As the leaves turn golden brown;
As the mountains age;
The ground begins to beckon,
Smooth parchment begins to curl.

Our naivety preys on our youth,
It leads our mind astray.
As the snow comes floating down;
As our stories change;
Today becomes a photograph,
A story told on a cold winters eve.

Routine becomes a source of comfort,
Detracting us from the real.
As our hands begin to quiver;
As our hair shall fade;
Stories lived become our fodder,
Convince us of our youth.

We hurl towards sure oblivion,
Always looking back.
As the sand trickles down;
As the hands tick on;
Our hearts beat on in silence,
Our bodies glow with warmth.

The last few lines of a gripping novel,
No more pages to turn.
As the quill runs out of ink;
As the story ends;
Each chapter makes its presence felt,
A tale passed down for eternity.

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