Golden Years

These are not my golden years; these years when I am old. In the years when I was young; those were my years of gold. Those olden times have slipped away; warm moments in the sun; No gold there is will bring them back; my past can't be undone. I had, a truth that came to me as my time was marching on; I thought my chance to help someone will likely soon be gone. So I will try to use this time,, the time I have left to live; As though I have run out of time, with no more time to give. How precious are these moments; they're more valuable than gold: A value I could not estimate, Until I had grown so old. I like to think that I have done the best I ever could, And, that by the end of life, I will have done some good.