Time

When you’re born you don’t know its meaning

Demands are just sleep, food and cleaning

It passes so fast

Folks wish it would last

Too quickly you’ve blown past your weaning

At two you ask ‘bout it all day

It seems like its all you can say

When folks ask you why

You say, "Look at the sky!"

Then you run back outside and go play

As a teen you have oh so much more

Its abundance you seem to ignore

Don’t put things away

In a rush all damn day

Your wake is a slamming front door

At twenty you chase a degree

At thirty you want PhD

Lamenting its shortage

Paying your mortgage

Is this all my life’s meant to be?

At fifty you’ve climbed the top tier

Its ending you now start to fear

Your sixties get done

You’re now eighty-one

Each moment so precious, so dear

You reach the front gate and meet Peter

You tell him that nothing’d be sweeter

"Your wish is not rare

Ask again up the stairs,

That’s above my pay grade here as greeter"

"No, child, this here's where you land,

Now that you well understand

The tocks are finite

As are days and are nights"

Then He offers to you His big hand

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