Time
TIME
The tree it grows
The stream it flows
Each in its time
Not yours nor mine
The hill looks on
Then they are gone
The pass of time
Not called by chime
The May bug flies
In hours it dies
Yet for each one
A full life’s run
You see the span
Of beast or man
Seems full for each
Or far too brief
Is time a truth?
No end in sooth
Or each one’s view
To have or rue
A brief short pass
As dew on grass
Or long as known
By rock or stone
Each soul may oft
Find hard or soft
To face the cost
Of gain or loss
So take each day
As work or play
I’ll write my rhyme
And make my time
Copyright © Geoffrey Brewer | Year Posted 2018
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