Sonnet 4, All Hours Of The Day... Poem by Peter S. Quinn

All hours of the day pass by, one by one,
Into the past that is bestowed to all;
There are no things still new under the sun,
Each has its time before the final call.
When hour is young you feel the burst and gloss
And all lies ahead in ways of thought and dream,
But then it is like time you double-cross,
For all in life's not always as it seem.
We go ahead to dreams and other ways,
All through our life and all our circumstance;
But moments run fast each minute, hour, days,
Often one will not get a second chance.
Remember this when young you are at trying,
All efforts are worth it, that's worth defying.