Caught by Time
The setting sun of life gilds with its rays, the unforgotten but far distant days, the days when youth and hope walked hand in hand.
It sheds around the past a rosy glow, that past which never was a present, though on looking back o’er life it seems to stand.
Bathed in a crimson glory, and old age, lingers with loving fondness o’er the page, thus lighted up by memory’s golden rays.
A poem by Florence Peacock
© Photos by Armand Hough