On time, and times, in Shakespearean Sonnet form:
As I approach the winter of my years,
the summers I have seen appear so few;
In spring, I was still wet behind the ears,
Now autumn fills my eyes with mourning dew.
Once April danced with May straight into June,
and all the world was summer mixed with spring;
but now September plays an august tune
October won't remember how to sing.
On Saturdays my game was hide-and-seek,
but Sundays found me kneeling down to pray;
the cycle still repeats itself each week,
as I approach the evening of my day.
And so as winter looms, and blooms deflow'r,
I'll kneel in morning dew to greet the hour.
©2010 R.J. Gardner - All Rights Reserved
©2010 R.J. Gardner