doing the best we can
watching the second hand
sometimes spins like a fan
sometimes it stops
days blur into weekends
where does it go and then
it seems like we’re working with
a broken clock
time, it is not on our side
the days are steps we take
against a fate we can't deny
if in the end we fade into the night
then why should I serve time?
remember who we have been
looking at our children
how did they get here,
where do they go so fast?
if our lives get boiled down
to who, what, when, where and how
then nothing outside of now
can ever last
doing the best we can
years start and then they end
blink and it’s gone again
we’ve come so far
when we’re seven decades in
will we still be holding hands
watching our grandchildren?
I hope we are
time it is not on our side
at last we drift, black ash across the waves into the night
in death I am set free from serving time
so why did I?
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