My Clock Of Time
Don't you know, on this February morn,
by Ataka Rhodes Royse
This icey snowy day, in which I was born,
While I am turning my heard, looking around,
My clock of time, is already winding down?
Skipping through meadows, dancing in the breeze,
Running through forest, picking flowers and leaves,
The sun casting her halo over my crown,
As my clock of time, is winding down.
The sun at it's zenith, so much I need to know
Many things to do, lots of places to go.
If I am faithful, I will win my crown,
While my clock of time is winding down.
Shade of evening falling, steps getting slow,
Service to others, is all I need to know.
If I win a smile, erase a frown,
It will be worth it all, as my clock winds down.
Night birds singing, insects in tune,
Stars, sparkling diamonds, a thin slice of moon,
And you notice, silence is profound,
You will know my clock of time, has wound on down.