Nothing Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Nothing is really new
all is in its old,
memories and you
all the hours could hold.

Dreams in their glowing
of days going by,
all comes around in going
before it says goodbye.

Nothing is never to be
only a dream for you,
like an autumn tree
with leaves so few.

We just hold on
while the days open up,
so much of life is gone
merry go round none stop.

Nothing this day is
though fresh in its air,
moment's of going bliss
all or nothing everywhere.

Day by day going through
summer still shading,
nothing is really new
in these times fading.