Time Poem by Alexander Beebe

Relevant time must be to give our life perspective.
Sixty ticks upon a clock can be too fast or anguished.
A day when spent with ones we love, how quickly is its passing.
A day’s forever for the hungry, pain is in their fasting.

“What time is it? ” we often ask of family, friend and stranger,
The hands we watch upon the face, its name so aptly given.
We race the day, momentum builds, the sun eludes our schedule.
Our life so ordered and arranged, does time dilute its pleasure?

This thing called time we all are given at our first hello,
We have the choice to spend it wisely, use it up, or let it grow.
The road it travels, one direction, never pausing, no reverse.
The seeds we plant while on times journey, define our hearts our minds our soul.