Where does the time go, seconds, minutes &
hours?
Floating past, as feathers & petals of sweet
flowers,
Days, weeks, years, tick-tock, an entire whole
lifetime,
In which we merely pretend, act & daily
duly mime.
Seconds, drift by upon time´s ragged & flying
wings,
Hours plod heavy-hoofed, as death, it´s old
dirge sings,
Man´s perception, time, flighty-light or rutted
groove,
Of love & errant doings, what in finality,
does it prove?
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