Picture this: you’re eighty-three and open up a photo book

All your family’s front of you and sees each smile; every look

I assume most in the room have not even been born of yet

But each of them, with every grin, will hear the things you won’t forget

You will sit there and recall the life you lived “back in the day”

You will tell them things were different “when I was young and at your age”

All the things you wish you’d done, they’ll be lost amidst every word

For they will only hear the trouble caused and all the mischief stirred

Think about that – truly, think

The things that we prioritize

It isn’t work, it’s not the grind

It’s not the lows – it is the highs

Life is given once, you see

It sadly does not last

Cherish every moment, please

They go by far too fast

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