It is not possible to stop Time.
It has to fly at its own pace,
and as we run the rat race,
Time pauses and watches.
They say It heals, but they forget;
It also hurts, in disguise,
and however may we be wise,
Time frequently triumphs.
It gives us those we love,
then takes them away slyly,
and reminds us dryly,
that nothing is permanent.
Good Time is precious,
because it is so rare,
that we cannot even dare
to let it slip our hearts.
Instead we carry It safe
wrapped deep in our minds,
Fully aware that It binds
a prick of heartache to us.
As Time teams up with Distance,
we see our loved ones go,
with pain like blood on snow,
we have Love’s shoulder to cry on.


January 2013


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