The Flight of Time

Oh, my enemy has no face

To smote nor ears to hear

My cries of pain and woe;

Yet the flight holds its pace

With no want to veer

Or to bend against its flow.

It once waited for me to merge

Off my mother's box and slot

And start one on my own.

Why did my friend choose to diverge

To a coach who only taught

Me things before I was grown?

Sleep and play, laugh and cry

I did, for he could not.

Not once did he balk or break

Won'dring why he just chose to fly,

I knew not what he thought

'Bout the long flights he'd make.

And now I filled my box and slot,

Yet he had more places to be

And many more mounts to climb.

A friend was he. From all I sought,

He left behind for me his key.

"Don't be late for your flight of time!"