Velvet Paws of Time
When juvenile,
it matters not the ticking of the clock.
For then, time creeps as if on velvety paws,
casting its shadow o'er the earth;
but as we mature it appears,
as a bird of prey on outstretched wings.
Always solemn-faced, talons extended,
snuffing life as were it a candle at first light.
We know of our beginning,
but only God knows of our appointed demise.
In the interim, withhold not thanks,
for the extension of life each day.
For while life's beginning,
may come with the glow of a velvety red rose;
time, as the noonday sun,
will soon render it a pallid pink
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2008
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