Time

Time is a dear friend,

An old poet used to say,

As it gets us old..

Time is an enemy,

With sword and gun

Keeping the restless on the run..

Sitting here I count my time,

And see myself trapped

Into confusion and blame..

It’s not how many steps

I have taken

It’s not which road I follow

It’s the willingness to move

That can stop the time

And standing there,

You tell yourself

Time is my vehicle

To ride, to overcome

Challenge life should offer

By then, there are no more goodbyes…..