Precious Things (Poem, 1969)

The heart grows fonder of precious things,

When they have gone away.

The mind remembers, through its dreams,

And desires them to stay.

Precious things come and go,

And most go by too fast.

If they must go, why not slow?

And make the moments last.

Precious things were meant to stray,

Never to remain permanently.

Some will last for a second or a day,

but none last for eternity.

Precious things, when they appear,

Should be enjoyed without haste,

For precious things soon disappear,

And idle time is waste.

Waste not your precious time,

For time is not your friend.

Time often gives no sign,

When your precious life will end.