FATHER TIME

My softening steps aim hard to not awake
The stealer of youth, Old Father Time,
But, alas, ‘tis all in vain, the old man sleeps,
Opened of eye, hand waving time to scurry.

I tiptoe past him, what a fool,
His laughter’s nearly heard,
What makes me think that such a ploy
Will slow the speed of time?

For years I feared the rocking chair,
The squeaks their runners made,
Surely the sound would wake the man
And then my hair would turn to gray.

Well, alas, the gray it came,
The old man had no mercy,
And then the signs of aging seen…
In more than just my hair.

Time races past me, will not slow,
Yet catches me with vast surprise,
As though I didn’t feel the breeze
Whizzing past my aging cheek.

The old man holds his aged old clock,
Whose hands speed faster with the years,
And only death will stay the hands…
When I no longer will awake.