Time

There is nothing that time does not touch. It has us all in it’s clutch. With it’s healing fingers or wounding pain. Continuous links in an unending chain. The pieces of what we were, Fall away until we become what we are. And there is a story behind every scar. Childhood fantasies soon out grown. Oh, how we let go of dreams all on our own. Lovers in sickness and health forsaken by each other. For some reason or another. The things that were so right, suddenly wrong. And how soon we forget the things we’ve known all along. Time is wasted and all is over in the end. Either way time is no man’s friend. We are all healed or wounded in time. And taking it for granted is the greatest crime. For you see it is never on our side, Nor will it ever be defied. Sarah D Comstock 7/14/1998