by Abigael19 Oct 2013
Time dies on me with each tick tock
of my clock, the battery's low. Killing
time - I write - and down a scotch.
Eight long hours of work, six to eight
for a quick slumber, where does the rest
disappear - I can't help but wonder.
Time wastes our poor old bodies
and takes our wits. Peverse, I squander
my time, just to prove we are quits.
I need time to dream : to live creatively,
I need some time for me, and many years
to figure out life's infinite mystery.
The wheel of time spins much faster
as the cosmic clock marks our latter days
in the blink of an eye, time is a gonner.
Time starts with a childs first cry. Life's
too short to hate, we count love's moments
till time takes our breath when we die.