As your father holds your baby hands,
on that autumn day
the wind whips at your backs and combs through your hair
Little do you both know,
that that wind is the memories of the past.
So when your parents pull out your baby album and ask,
Where the time went?
The answer will be floating all around you
When you get in fights with them the time moves slower
seeming to increase the anger with in.
But there are also the moments when you feel so happy
and the breeze moves swifter to suck up the memories
And when you finally see the wrinkles in there eyes
and the grey of the hair and the slower movements
you want to know,
Where did all that time go?
So quick is life that in the time that the same breeze passes through,
All of your moments and memories are gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem