Dear Time
Why are you so cunning
Why are you even running?
Do you ever laugh at us
And wonder if we will ever stop our fuss?
I sometimes look around
And only hear one sound
All I hear is your tick tack
I so wish I heard the lark
Time I have received so little of you
Meaning that I will only ever meet a few
When it is my turn to go Time
Know that I did my best to shine
When you have taken me
Know that I did my best to just be
I loved where I could
I tried to be good
Let this be my last will
Let me rest on the top of a hill
Where I can enjoy the sun
And watch everybody continuing to run
YOU ARE READING
The story of me
PoetryThey might not make sense, but they are all parts of what is the story of me.
