It nibbles away, at each of our years,
Ingesting our months one by one,
Our weeks are a part of it's diet,
with days gobbled up as they run.
There is no way that we can control it,
To reduce, or to increase its trend,
With none of us here when it started,
Though each of us, will be at its end.
Some will accuse it of flying,
and to say it stands still is untrue,
for the rate of its travel is constant,
it's a fable to say that it flew.
The effect on our lives is tremendous,
With its uni-directional trend,
A feature that stops it reversing,
Keeping nature in step to the end.
It has a poor record for waiting,
as time cannot halt for a day.
Time helps the aged get older,
for time's in control of decay.
If only I could stop its travel,
I'd do so, if I had my way
To fulfil a heartfelt desire,
and make me a child for today.

By Bill Austin.