Time

Time doesn’t pass in a rhythmical tick and tock. Time doesn’t take off, soar, flutter, or fly, Nor does time sit, stay motionless, wait. It melts in the rising sun, Dissolves in the chambers of earth, Collapses from a hard day at work, At its 24/7 job. It’s something that wilts from the strongest tree And thrives in the dead of winter. Time crawls up behind you when it is least expected, In its vibrant silver, gold and orange hues. It slithers like a serpent, On to those unsuspecting, Pries open its hazardous jaws, Causing damage nor help, Only leaving an end result. For time presses forward, Passing along desert, cliff, and ocean, Seeing no difference Or way back.