When golden sun dips low beneath the crest,
And shadows lengthen on the weary land,
Time marches on, with neither pause nor rest,
Its fleeting moments slipping through our hand.

As seasons change, so too our youthful grace,
The lines of age upon our features drawn,
Yet in our hearts, the memories embrace,
Of days long past, now distant as the dawn.

Though time may steal the vigor from our frame,
It cannot touch the soul’s eternal flame,
For in our love, the timeless shall remain,
A beacon bright, amidst the shifting game.

So let us cherish, every fleeting day,
For time, relentless, swiftly sweeps away.