The time has come. How I hate time- There’s no rewind, pause or fast forward.
The tics and toc’s, don’t quiet down, And I don’t even own a clock; But, it’s sounds are loud enough for my Sensitive ears to hear.
Can we be a painting? Song? Words? For time ends and when it does, Hands on clocks, with its loudest clicks, Slowly become whispers for only ears.
