7 of Cups

There are things I think of. Never can remember what they were
Did they go where I lived?
In ten years, will I be able to tell it straight?
Up a hill, down again, time to rest
For the hours know their pace. Want to know my own too
Early in the day to find out
Too late to take it back and forward
Evening looms just beyond my own view
Evening looms just beyond my own view