Thousands come, thousands go,
Millions come, millions go,
Without even noticed by,
But there are a few,
A few and a few,
Whose deeds are left behind,
We recollect and we weep,
For the passes do not meet,
Yet if they meet again in life,
With retelling of stories,
Full of joy and grief,
We will spend most of our time.
We come on this earth,
With an empty slate,
And Memory with its staff,
Keeps filling the space,
And Time always trying
To make some room
Scrubs the slate
With brushes and broom
But imprints some are deep
That covered up they are not
Standing against all odds
Loose their luster, they will not
And turning back our heads
Lots of footprints we will see
Engraved on the sands of time
For eternity they will be...
29/06/2014
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