Thursday, August 20, 2009


When I was a little boy

Time was but a word.

Life went on forever,

Clock’s numbered face absurd.

In my youth perception changed.

Time assumed a heavy hand.

School days seemed unending,

The future a far-off land.

Then I became a working man,

Time was now the master.

Life was ruled by deadlines,

The clock moved ever faster.

In middle age my motor slowed,

But not the clock, I fear.

As it got up to cruising speed,

I lagged in second gear.

Now I am an old man,

My hours scarcer grow,

Clock hands spin like pinwheels,

Time is now the foe.

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