This is the way the world moves on.

Things have to change, they always do;
for, this is the way the world moves on.
Somewhere there, in the glare of lights,
we all face our moments of truth.
To climb uphill and find the old cottage
still standing there, makes you happy .
But wait , how will you feel when you see
the lock on the doors , hanging heavy .
Spread across on the grassy lawns,
the tell tale signs of long absence .
No one's been here for many days
and perhaps nobody lives here any more.
When you turn your back and find no one ;
except the shadows, keeping pace .
Maybe , it's not fair , but no complain ;
for this is the way the world moves on.