Time is so very slow
And yet so quick
What makes it so
What makes it tick?

The clock records each wasted second
That is let slip from life,
While impatient death has beckoned
Each mortal for his wife.

And when that time is nigh
For frame and soul to part
Last breath’s escape with a sigh
Even from the stoutest heart.

So, never linger, or loose that hour
For it can ne’er return
And must waste, turn sour
But, will man ever learn?

by Terry Brewer

Comments (2)

Nice work, Terry. I enjoyed the rhyme. Regards, Gina.
Time is a very inspiring subject for writing. Time, clock, life... Your poem makes me think of one of mine 'Tick, tick...' Well, we can feel the time in a similar way. It's nice to meet a kindred spirit here :)