We walked away from our youth,
In this dance called life.
Some steps were so joyful,
whilst others were in strife.

The rhythm gave us a song,
and other times a chance.
Together we learned lessons,
As we learned the dance.

We played our own music,
with the life we lived.
Now it's faint memories,
that we've left to give.

The story's come full circle,
back to where we've been.
Youth may be where we started,
but the cycle has no end.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 20th of Haernos, in the year 488 MA.