There is no downside to getting old, but there is no upside to being old. And so, as the end approaches, we have only thoughts of what has been and not of what is to be. We wander the empty rooms of our past contemplating the shadows.

Thoughts substantial as the shadows
Thoughts as restless as the wind
Thoughts that cannot come together
Thoughts like butterflies unpinned
Dancing manically to music
Dancing through the waving blooms
Stopping briefly to discover
There is no one in the rooms
That were once filled loud with laughter
Love and joy and flashing eyes
But are silent now and shadowed
Dimly lit by the sunrise
Stealing in the sleepless bedroom
To announce another day
Filled with loneliness and sorrow
That seems not to go away
Thoughts of life at the beginning
Thoughts of years flown like the wind
Thoughts that cannot come together
Dancing butterflies unpinned