Minute Samba

Some say that when you come at last to the hour of your demise, it seems you see your whole life pass right before your eyes.

Like pages in a picture book flipping with the breeze, photographs that someone took collecting memories.

Raindrops in a sea of time, the years are not that long. Some stand pronounced like words that rhyme to a line within a song.

So although a symphony would certainly impress, I feel that some philosophies are best expressed with less.

Verse

It’s a simple song, it won’t take long, it’s called the Minute Samba. Sixty seconds all you need to play the whole song through.

Like a wound up clock goin’ tick tick tock, it keeps a steady time, and if you don’t hold that final note all you need is fifty nine.

But if you’re one to drag the beat or cannot keep from racin’, the seconds, they will fly right by like somethin’ you were chasin’.

And when that final measure comes around and the question takes the floor, do you stop and take a rest or play the song once more.