Ever notice how time goes by?
The clock on the wall goes “bong.”
Like a bird, the time does fly.
Like an army, it marches along.
Leaves on trees tumble and fall,
The wind blows across tall grass.
Life is short, does it matter at all?
We are born to live until we pass.
Passage of time is incremental.
Little by little, we grow and age.
As memories can be sentimental,
Every day we turn a new page.
Our lives develop like a book,
With chapters and twisting plots.
Stories change each time we look,
With emotions tied up in knots.
Eventually, our bodies will expire,
As death comes upon us fast.
Buried, entombed, consumed by fire,
The future becomes the past.
Our journeys take many turns.
The road goes around the bend.
A lifetime crashes and burns,
As the Book of Life does end.