Where are the snows of yesteryear?
-François Villon
The wheel turns, the story moves on. And yet we refuse to be drug along.
Clinging to our pain, or perhaps our ill gotten gains. Holding on for dear life, of the memories that cause us strife.
What was yesterday, but now the past? A thing so real, yet it did not last.
Everything is the same, yet at the same time it’s changed. That much to see is plain.
Yet we hold on for dear life, to the things from that day. Clinging steadily, begging them not to fade.
We know we should not. We know we can’t stop. Yet in the end it’s all for naught.
Nothing can bring back the things, that ended when yesterday fades
RedRavenPoems 
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