#sundaypoem
When I was little, Time seemed to go so slow.
I thought I would have forever and a day
To get to wherever I needed to go.
I laughed in the face of Time, in the face of Age.
I could never understand how, when I was older,
Time would become a finely wrought iron cage.

Then I grew older, and Time picked up the pace.
Everything flew by in the blink of an eye
As I stumbled behind in that breakneck race.
Days became memories, too fleeting and brief.
Time had become a cruel, pitiless monarch, (cont)