Sonnet 87, Is There Time... Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Is there time to change when wings won't fly away?
I've been looking through my passed now,
Each new step that comes in tomorrow's day:
Walls of glasses, but still I manage somehow.
Trees of life will grow up if you're ambitious,
Future's unknown to each one on the street;
Even the shadow from the moon's suspicious,
When you see it growing large around your feet.
Growing madness and horror stories around,
Broadcasting it live to annoy us all,
Lost in anew and old is newer found,
Excitement's coming from further down the mall
On our way, we begin to learn, to know,
What is rusting fast and what will onward glow.