Fleeting Time
Sweet Spring just knocked upon my door and now it’s mid-July.
I’m jealous of each passing hour since I told her good-bye.
Youth stays for just the shortest while and then it's claimed by age.
Before the last is written on, we've turned another page.
As that most precious gift of time is grudgingly allotted,
The story of a life could end, long before it's plotted.
No man owns so many days that one day should be wasted.
No matter quality of wine if it is not tasted.
Now's the time of life when I appreciate the flavor
Of each day as it arrives, ere it is gone forever.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2011
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