It quickens and it slows,
In opposite directions,
It teases and it taunts,
And it plays with my affections.
When I want it fastest,
It crawls so slowly by,
And when I want to savour it,
Oh, suddenly it flies!
It doesn't have a care at all,
It runs at its own speed,
Whether it is fast or slow,
Such ardour it does feed.
So what is this that teases so?
What annoys us all?
It's 'time' of course, it's only 'time',
That prolongs, delays and stalls.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.