Read this Philip Larkin poem recently and the last few lines of the last stanza stayed in mind through the monotonic hum of the workdays
I wasn't sure how to interpret it - this is a comment on how well use our time or not. In Larkin's case he remained childless and that stand's in contrast to Dockery his former classmate who had a son. For other the divergence from their once peers and equals could come about in different ways. It would perhaps make them question their use of time and how well they have age and if how they might feel knowing the end is not so far away.
These are probably good things to contemplate even without having a moment like Larkin did. There is the version of who we once dreamed we might be and then as time left starts to shrink, consider how well we used what we had and what might be the best way to use the balance.
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