Time

By Sarah Levesque Losardo

Time

Time marches ever on,

Moving on silent feet,

Sometimes running, sometimes walking,

Quiet as a thief.

Is our time stolen away,

Or do we give it freely?

Do we waste away our hours

Or live them all completely?

Soon we turn and some are past,

More than e’er we thought;

Are we glad that they’re this way

Or do we wish them caught?

Perhaps we wish for neither,

Or maybe wish for both,

But pause buttons do not exist

For hours we wish to hold.