Now time has wreaked its havoc on your youth
and spun its wrinkled web upon your face,
can you stand tall and face the bitter truth
of how you’ve run and won or lost the race?
What legacy shall stand for all those years;
what deeds and memories will you bequeath
to kith and kin that call themselves your peers,
who stand around the grave you lie beneath?
Will there be fond remembrance in their heart,
who shed such bitter tears at your demise?
Or simply by their duty play their part,
attending just for face in friendship’s guise?
Give of yourself before that mortal sleep,
for surely as you sow, so shall you reap.