Through all the troubling
Time, ticking through the air,
melting down the bottomless drain.
Watching the leaves fall then growing
back, as the seasons fade away, yet
later are reborn.
It's like going to bed when it's December, dreaming about May then when you wake up it's September.
And when you try to slow
down, you have a better chance of making
a Symphony when it's just you playing
a guitar with no strings.
The worst part is each year you add
to your check list, time gets faster.
Now hours are minutes, and minutes are seconds,
and when you look at the clock
you realize you've been reading
this for longer than you thought.
That's just how it it, because
the clock keeps ticking
