Categories: Time
If I could I’d make time travel backwards
But unfortunately, that cannot be
For the clock hands always move forward
Quite inexorably.
Their progress is always measured
Minutes and seconds ticking away
Advancing toward the future
Twenty-four hours each day.
These are hands that do not wrinkle
But with time gradually wear away
Because they have moved steadily
Separating night from day.
As time divides season from season
Weeks and month becomes years
But I need to remember that years will cease
When eternity reappears.
