just a mood

we reach the limit of the old so soon
a single word and then the bird must fly
the sun cannot be held for long at noon

each child seems happy with a toy balloon
but when the string is let go then they cry
we reach the limit of the old so soon

you might have called each smile a pleasant boon
and not have noticed time as it passed by
the sun cannot be held for long at noon

for a short while the instruments might croon
their sound a little pleasure should supply
we reach the limit of the old so soon

the butterfly breaks out of its cocoon
appears in beauty and then has to die
the sun cannot be held too long at noon

i for my part am just one more buffoon
here to amuse not pleasing to the eye
we reach the limit of the old so soon
the sun cannot be held for long at noon