*This story will be available to read until January 11, 2021.
WHERE HAVE THE YEARS GONE?
Bill Scott
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Where have the years gone?
I looked for them yesterday, And found my supply had grown small. When I was young, they were plenty, Long and lean and light, like a javelin. I kept them in the closet, with my brooms and rakes. Strong and playful, They were always ready for an adventure. We went on long walks, and contemplated great thoughts, reveling in the endless tomorrows. If one was wasted, there were plenty more. For growing old was not a possibility. That might come in time, but so very far away. Now, they have grown short, and I keep them in a drawer in my desk, like small candles with very little wick. Lately I have taken to locking the drawer, for they are skittish and prone to ramble. Just the other day it seemed that some had wandered away. I ran to look for them, but they could not be found and I gave up, for I am old now and short of breath. I shall buy a safe, I think, And keep in it the ones I have left, encircling them with my arms. For they are precious, all that remain of the infinite store of my youth. How sad, I ponder, as I turn the lock securely, That I did not think more of them when they were young and plentiful, when they held all possible futures, and all the time needed to try them. For it is only now that I see clearly, that though they once promised all the time in the world, they are few, and when my small store is spent, I shall get no more. 
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