The days flew by like a fleeting breeze,
From carefree youth to times like these.
He’s just a boy under the skies so wide,
This man now stood with time as guide.
The mirror has showed a much wiser face,
Marred by years no one can ever replace.
Blinded with the race of clocks and time,
Missed a chance to see life’s halfway sign.
I stood to a halt and try to turn around,
The path that I’ve lost now I have found.
A tale hidden under the light and shade,
The flower blooms where sorrow once laid.
Storm after storm I have made it through,
The moments are painting something new.
Not a hand can change what comes before,
The ink is now dry and it writes no more.
Yet in the very life that's wild and wide,
There will be some footprints on the side.
A world that grows old turns not in vain,
A memoir I wrote find traces of my name.
We now begin to write this life like a song,
From where I've been, be it right or wrong.
Life's worth recalling when memory is free,
And so is this story of 'The Man Called Me'.
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