These Days Poem by Ted Steger

I'll miss these days,
Strung out further than highways,
With passioned hearts not soon to fade,
Always to dance beneath the summer shade.

Yet it was a path of impurities,
Riddled with missed opportunity,
That burned upon our minds,
With the realization of losing time.

That Time, which slowly slips through our grasp,
‘Till we collapse into death's peaceful clasp,
So know that Now is all that's real,
Speak with a passion that all will feel.

And if they are thoughts trapped in your head,
That are to real for you to shed,
Then I hope you find someone who'd love to here,
Your version of life, your love, your greatest fear.