In the quiet whisper of dawn, time begins its endless march,
Unseen, yet felt in every breath, in every fleeting arch.
Moments slip like grains of sand through fingers grasping tight,
An ever-flowing river that dances out of sight.
With each tick of the clock, the present turns to past,
A tapestry of memories, woven to forever last.
Yet time, relentless, forges onward, with no pause,
Ignoring pleas for mercy, bound by unseen laws.
The sunsets and the moonrise, the seasons in their turn,
Each marking the passage, as the candles slowly burn.
We chase the fleeting shadows, we yearn to make them stay,
But time, the silent witness, slips quietly away.
In the heartbeats and the sighs, in laughter and in tears,
Time leaves its gentle imprint, through all our fleeting years.
So cherish every moment, embrace the now and here,
For time, the silent traveler, is forever near.