The Fellow Called Time Poem by Victor Charles

There goes the quiet gentleman
The easy-going, wait-less fellow
I know you've heard of him
His name is Mr. Time
When you see him walk by
He neither waits nor halts
He doesn't stop to greet
You wail and shout "he's arrogant"
But that's just his nature

He wears a face so stern
Like that of Mr. Judge
He never says a word
You'd dare to say he's dumb
Up comes chanting of mockery
With the jesting of idle lips:
"Here comes the aging fellow
Make way for Mr. Time"

I heard you call him "fashion"
His looks would always change
He comes in various forms
You hardly know it's him
For a while you see him young
Next he turns so old
One time you see him short
Other times he's just too long

In comes a music artiste
On course to man the stage
He sends out piles of waves
To greet his cheering fans
The crowd goes into raptures
All heads is held on high
He wiggles this way and that
But yet to make his show
The silent fellow stays watching
Waiting to seize the moment
You had better began your show
Before time calls it due