Sara Zahed | + Follow Poet |
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S.M.H.D.W.M.Y

Seconds, minutes, and hours
Days, weeks, months, and years
Pass so quickly with the breeze's tears
With no limits to stop their powers

Lives are tied to their waists
Where no one can escape into different times
That touched their lives with beautiful chimes
While others awaited their flights

They meet many people in their path
And invite many newborns to their parade
Providing each with a unique cascade
That beholds their destiny as a shallow bath

Time flutters away so quickly
Where newborns stretch and grow
Sailing across all the stages their chateau
Presenting the moments they will pass by

Newborns, then, become old people
That sit on a rocking chair
Helpless, tired, and exhausted from smell of the working air
Unable to climb their inviters' steeple

One day, old people's breathing ceases
And tears begin to gush down many cheeks
Muted by the sorrow filled within their tweaks
As the old people. the brave leaders, wave their good byes

For, they left many stranded from their tender
With no one else to replace it
As blocks of emptiness fill many with whit
As the leaders shall never return with a splendor

Seconds, minutes, and hours
Days, weeks, months, and years
Took many of our beloved old people, our leaders
As the eye sight is prevented from seeing then further more...

Copyright © Sara Zahed | Year Posted 2008

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