How Time. Poem by Terry Collett

How will we
separate this one
from the rest?

How make
the new
not grow old or dim
or aged
before its time?

I once was new
and thought my age
the best and wise by far
and thought eternity
was mine
to have and hold
and tread places
brave and bold.

I once thought
that time was mine alone
to pick moments
from its ageless purse
but time is no ones' slave
nor bends to wise words
or pleads of more again
in life's passing light
into dark night.

I thought
I had forever
as youth does
and could spend my time
as one who has riches
more to spend
but all time goes
and is spent
at the end.