~ Time ~

​

If I could but hold time within my hands,

What moments would I then identify

Sunrise soft ‘pon Alabama’s land

Evening’s chill whereon I lay my head.

A ladies purse of gold would I then give

To understand time’s ceaseless onward roll

How many lifetimes must I live

Till time exacts its final toll?

And so I watch the ticking of the clock.

Till I sail lost, upon a sea of woe.

Adrift in time I seek a friendly dock

Where I might understand time’s ebb and flow.

 

 

Time is not real, yet I cannot escape

Its long slow march to’ard the pearly gates.
 

[c] 2006 / Skip Brooks