Growing lovely, growing old

Growing lovely, growing old

What can be seen is passing
for that which can't be seen.
Growing old, growing nearer
we're living in-between.
-
Betwixt begin and ending
the days are numbered well.
Love is calling all to miss
that awful place called hell.
-
Eyes that see what can't be seen
are those that will live on,
for these have seen tomorrow
beyond another dawn.
-
Growing lovely, growing old
no more desire to roam.
Time has taken hold of me
and I am going home.