Time, the relentless river, ever-flowing,
Bears witness to our joys and sorrows,
Carrying fragments of dreams and memories,
Through the corridors of yesterdays and tomorrows.

In the quiet hush of dawn, it whispers,
Secrets of moments lost and found,
Painting the sky with hues of yesterday’s colors,
As the present moment slips, unbound.

Time, the silent sculptor, shapes our essence,
Etching lines of wisdom on our faces,
Weaving stories in the fabric of existence,
Leaving footprints in life’s shifting sands.

And though we chase its fleeting shadow,
Yearning to grasp the ephemeral,
Time remains, an eternal enigma,
Guiding us through the infinite spiral.