When I learned to love Monet my world became a misty.
As I grew to love Pavarotti my ears became foggy.
Tears fell and the sun's rays shone cold
the day I found I was growing old.
Purple and blue are the colour of my tears
as I pause to count the passing years.
Now as I recall the past I find it hard to say
I'd like more time to do the things
I've come to love today.
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/more-time-please/