It controls, sets boundaries and dictates our lives,

We wait for its permission to eat, sleep; to live;

We are stuck in its parameters,

Treated in respect to its laws, stereotyped.

Dictated through life, dictated by time,

Then we are free, but time goes on.

It flies by, passes quickly and creeps up on us,

Carefree we ignore it but aware we fear it;

Fear to let it pass by unnoticed,

To live in a drudgery of waste and misuse.

For it's limited, our time's limited,

Then we regret, but time pushes on.

It weakens us, enfeebles us and drains us all,

As it grows stronger we in turn become frailer,

Looming up on us, counting slowly,

And though we try to trick it we cannot stop it,

Till our own has come, till our time has come.

Then we are gone, but time reigns on.

Yet it is precious, cherished, our own priceless gift;

Bringing celebrations, hope and, most valued, life ,

It brings the promise of a new day,

And washes and cleanses our guilt and our pain.

It's a small voice, time's a small voice,

Then we move on, as time moves on.