In The Nick Of Time
Time always seems to have a hold on me;
directing where and when I can go;
time even decides when I can be free;
within time’s ebb and flow.
Nearly everyone lives by a time table;
it even determines when they sleep;
without time; life becomes unstable;
there’s even a time to sow and reap.
It’s said there’s a time to laugh, and cry;
but I often have time for neither;
there’s also a time for hello and goodbye;
and most take time for a breather.
I schedule my time for work and play;
and also some time for vacation;
who made time as our god, anyway;
I’m oppressed by time stagnation.
I feel as though time starts; then stops;
sometimes it stops on a dime;
there’s even a time to harvest the crops;
some even claim; a time for wine.
Every day is governed by the clock;
we take time to eat and sleep;
when will such madness ever stop;
time is an infernal creep.
It’s nearly time to stop what I’m doing;
for I know that time is divine;
time has something; I must be pursuing;
so I’ll stop; in the nick of time.
Monty 10.07.25. # 3,010