Final Year Blues

What shall we call these day's of ours?
When the future's past?
When the present's gone?

What shall we be,
When the memories fade and the shadows wade,
When the vibrant present turn a greyish shade,
When laughter now turns nostalgic sigh.

When faces turns wrinkled,
When skin turns crumpled.
When we no longer be,
For we are no longer we.
Then, what will be will be?

Yet what is past can never be,
And what is now has yet to be.
For you see,
The Best is Yet to Be

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PS: This is in response to reading Meisi's blog. It's Final year, final semester and I'm counting down the days to completion of studies half hoping it'll never come.... =(
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------