Memory is like a book
In which new pages grow.
New chapters keep on adding
As through life you go.
Some chapters bright and cheerful
Others full of gloom.
No matter what the number
There always will be room.
The print is sharp and clear
And so is easily read
The book gets ever larger
As through life we tread.
But then in later life you see
The print begins to fade.
It's not so easy now to read
More effort must be made.
So copy it on your hard-drive
So others then can see.
What a lovely person
You one time used to be.