Time- The Jerk Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

The noose that's smoothed by living years of wear
will see us choked and speechless, hemped in mime,
Some thugs of Time will trash us, dumped on dare;
Some lane will hide our murdered mortal prime.
So we may plea, cry loud some desperate vow,
profess we'll never turn the culprits in;
but Time shuns care, mad-wild to prey on now;
then laughs out loud as dying waits within....
But when we're old, so old we just can't care,
Time then seems kind and sleeves the dial of crime;
He jokes! His gags just kill us, we declare;
but words, all words seem elegies in rhyme.
Time springs for tea and thick jam of reprieve,
gives weak regret- but nudges us to leave.