The Hand of Time
By John Herlihy (Saturday 20/1/18)

Time always lays a hand on us all,
Gently from nowhere does it fall.
The budding look of youth appears,
Soon enough it will fall into arrears.

Our face features do stay the same,
Their edges end up taking the blame.
The flesh may be fuller but soon sags,
The eyes dulled and wear heavy bags.

The shiny black hair turned bone grey,
The mouth still has too much to say.
Frozen in time from years in a snarl,
The hands now wrinkled and gnarled.

While age does spread its pitiful film,
The soul ripens in this earthly realm.
The rosy cheeks that once did bloom,
Now sag, shaded in shadows of gloom.

The face will tell the tale of the years,
Eyes once bright will shed many tears.
The faculties no longer calculate fair,
But still breathe the fresh morning air.

The budding flower soon gives the lie,
As it does age, wither and finally die.
Time relinquishes our present to past,
The future seen standing at the mast.