All I’ve Ever Done

Time has a face,

She is styled and agile,

Her arms turning gently,

Her legs smooth and fragile,

Her tips toes glide over a frozen lake,

Lines of frigid beauty,

Lie in her wake.

Lips made of ruby,

Eyes of black night,

Wrapped in the dawn’s sheer pink,

Spun with her breath rolling, fog-like.

Her song is sweet and welcoming,

For everyone resides with Time,

She sees the smallest snowflake

The hours seem to unwind,

Walking in the fog,

I see her light,

She glides over to me,

Smile shining bright,

She says,

“Your time has come sweet traveler; lay down your head and rest. For Time has come to comfort you through all your years of distress.”

I tell her,

“Is it truly my time to go? Have I not given my best? Why have I been chosen? Why should I have to rest?”

Her kind black eyes searched me over, and with a gentle tone she spoke,

“Weary one, nature has chosen you. With the gods your soul now floats.”

With that, I took a sigh,

Agreeing to where Time led,

She walked me to a meadow,

With grass, much like a bed.

I lay down upon it,

And decided to finally rest my weary head.