Footprints on the sands of time
Guidelines for the way,
But, when howling winds from the seas
Blow them all away,
‘Tis the bones left on the shore
That then, come into play
And, tell you where the past lies
The remnants of the potter and the once-wet clay.

The skies that once were always blue
Starlit nights that seemed so true,
Where did they go, I often wonder?
Does Time not leave things for long
Where they are,
Are all things always torn asunder?

Does Time always rob and plunder
The Trees with leaves,
The Rose that blooms,
The one who croons,
The Nightingale that sings,
The gentle breeze that calm brings,
As it witnesses mortality,
Time, remains
The Bystander

Look over your shoulder and view the past
The times gone by and where they flew,
Those moments
Those that you once treasured
Those, that your happiness measured
Those that made life worth living
Now gone, vanished into thin air
Leaving you with no clue,
Blessed Time, accursed Time
Fleet-footed, alas, is
Father Time.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)