Time

In youth, oh such simple youth I chased the ever elusive time.

Back then I remember time as a close friend, something constant –

Something soft, something ever present in the summer days with no end.

Yet now time, she steals my days,

Her meekness replaced by faux exuberance which lends ones soul into life’s end unto external haze.

For in the blink of an eye, we journey from smiles and giggles and pretty butterflies –

Strait now unto dark covered hearses amidst deaths soft cry.

Thus now in the midst of this starry dream,

I acquiesce to the march of time –

I surrender –

I give up, for I know now that time is no friend of mine.

©J. Allen Wilson 6/26/2011