I sit in my chair and think of days gone by,
my body is tired, my brain rethinking why,
to hold a moment in our lives each day,
fleeting, yet part of us, like summer's pay.

The little blue cup, so old with a chip,
hold pebbles from the lake I gathered after a dip,
in water so cold, restoring my soul,
and now a memory in a cup, precious as gold.