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Time does give way,
And life, so fleeting, does not last.
The days and years no more than seconds—
And present, so quickly, becomes the past.

A clock’s fingers fidget like an unruly child.
The birthdays—the numbers—running wild.
The memories—the clock face—yellowed with wear.
Aging, so simple to do, yet harder to bear.

The good china broken or cracked at least;
Old bones, contorted and arthritic, just the same.
To good and bad times forgotten,
Old joys gone lame.

So when children wish for adulthood, pay them no heed.
For you know better, being full grown, and they no more than a seed.
They know not how fast a second flies
To join all the rest to wither and die.

So many lives that need no remembrance—
History lauds but a glorious few.
Childhood births many unremarkable lives,
And old is replaced by new.

Time does give way,
Leaking age into the heart.
A simple task, that—to grow older;
But how well life is lived is the true art.