Tweaked A Four-Year Old Piece
Time Flies By
The essence of time,
ticking.
A holder of thoughts,
seconds stored by memories,
remembered minute by minute.
Images come forth, hourly;
days to think of what if’s,
weeks to plan the what may be.
Months after to decide,
if years past,
those years to come;
if anything, is really worth the effort.
Tick-tock,
hands go round the clock.
Time, flies by.
We laugh, we sigh,
privately we cry.
One day we die.
Is it really worth the effort.
Days of “what if” images—
week by week planned out,
month over month to decide,
if years past and years to come,
will have been worth the journey.
Tick-Tock,
hands go round the clock.
Time zips by as to remind—
we’ve lived, laughed, loved, cried,
sighed,
and run ourselves out of Time.
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In the process of writing this, it caused me to think of several songs:
and one more to make a "baker’s" dozen ...
what would time be without this guy: