And all the while times are changing, and it seems to go unnoticed.
floorboards creak under carpets worn bare.
These signs of decay are only seen by the young,
while the old still see the beauty of what had been.
Decay is but a memory of living,
and in part a measure of our passion,
a spiritual graffiti of a life well spent,
A legacy of tales to be shared.
And in the sharing, decay recedes for the moment
to reveal the sights and sounds of memories that are
held within decay and resurrected in the telling,
to live within the hearts of those who had not been there
but who would reap the rewards of knowing from whom they came.
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