Time

Something we have both too much of, and too little of.

Time always seems to be slipping away.
I can never get it when I need more.
But when I'm pressed for it, it rushes past, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

 

The hourglass is my enemy,
and the watch is my foe.
They seem to conspire against me,
and sometimes I wonder if I'm fighting a losing battle.

 

When you're young and old, time seems to stand still.
When you're anything else, you always seem to need more.
I think God has a sense of humor, don't you?
He gives us time when we don't need it, and when we do, it's already wasted.

 

So don't waste the time you've got left.
Get out and do something with it.
Remember that time, no matter how much or little you have, is a precious commodity.
One we can't afford to buy back.

Author's Note

I wrote that to remind myself how precious the time we have with loved ones is.

Reviews

[Adela Muresan]

Hey, you expose some usefull facts here but...they would have read way better in prose.
Your poem doesn't have flow, and that is disturbing to the reader- try to rewrite your ideas in a prose.

A.M.