110 b/m 7/2/20
Every day is one step closer, I'm running out of time;
Memories start to fade; well past my prime.
My time is not over, but it's not guaranteed;
My pace is now slower, as the winds of time recede.
Can't believe it's true; couldn't happen to me.
But the messge is clear; it's as plain as it can be.
Time left for a song, just barely enough;
Hopeful farewell, that kind of stuff.
2025 - Here's another shot of Pete, slaving away at his thankless job. (Thanks, Marc!)
