Just Like It Used To Be. Poem by Charles M Moore

When you take the final picture
when your down to your last dime
when you realise that eveything
was written between the lines.
When you've read your final story
and you think there's nothing new
close the book and take a look
there is still someone for you.

When the winter mists in slumber
fall from mountain to the glen
they may obscure the beauty
but life still goes on within.
Life is often at it's ripest
just before it fades away
it's not what you did yesterday
but what you dream today.

Your eyes may now be dimmer
though the sparkles still the same
you wonder if the features in the mirror
bear your name.
It's not that you feel older
your heart is still as free
this life that goes on naturally
just like it used to be.