It slips away like the sun dropping behind the ocean.
It dances away like a child laughing.
It creeps away like a cat after a nap.
It passes away like footprints in the sand.
It blows away like ashes from a fire.
It slips by like a stranger on a train.
It dances by like a bride on her wedding day.
It creeps by like a wolf on the hunt.
It passes by like a car on the highway.
It blows by like the wind on its journey.
It can not be stopped.
It slips, dances, creeps, passes and blows.
It can never return.
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Author:
Hinnant Lang (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 25th, 2021 22:37
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- User favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses.
Offline)
Comments2
So very true, we must enjoy every moment of our time, they will never return.
Andy
Good write H.
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