One More Day Poem by Norman E Dale

I do not know, it is the truth,
was life much better in my youth.
When every love, each jug of wine,
those hours of joy, I took for mine.

The years flew by without a care,
old age so far ahead, somewhere.
What knew I then, how precious time,
as I lived out, my pantomime.

Tis' now I've learned, as wisdom shows,
how fast each precious moment goes,
as curtain falls to end my play,
I'd trade the lot, for one more day..