If I could hold the fragrance of a rose and make it last, I would. But I cannot as I cannot hold the music that flows and calms the sorrows of my human lot. How glorious are the sunbeams that throw golden rings around dandelion puffs yet neither light nor puff wishes to stay soon one fades while the other sails away. One moment, I am as I am, then I am not. Changes happen though I sit still - in ways small or great in the blink of an eye Is there a place into which the hours spill as rivers spill to the seas; where I can fly and relive the sweet moments at my will. Yet when remembrance brings all back to fore I see how endings are also a favor.