Time

My time races on like the clock on the wall,
First Springtime, then Summer an too soon 'tis fall.
Then finally the Winter, so cold and so still,
When just to function, becomes a matter of will.

So let me marvel at nature and inwardly grow,
For life moves onward as the rivers that flow.
I would smell of each flower and taste of each wine,
For too soon are spent the sands of my time..

- Robert Edgar Deitz