Years

Does it seem to you that the years have fled
And left us their weight but not their wisdom?
Cares of maturity rob us, instead,
Of the hopes of youth. Can we still name them,
Friends we’d known for years,kissed, loved, laughed with, lied
And wept for? Lives we’d have saved with our own
Now scattered to the compass. Spread so wide
We search for them only in dreams. Alone
Our memories fade like colours in the sun.
Is this all the merciless years have done?