Time

Hinnant

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.

  • Author: Hinnant Lang (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 25th, 2021 22:37
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 17
  • Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Goldfinch60

    So very true, we must enjoy every moment of our time, they will never return.

    Andy

  • orchidee

    Good write H.



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