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Time Grows Shorter

When I was young, the clock was barely alive
It seemed that the good times would never arrive.
As I grew older the needles had something to prove.
Their pace increased as they livened their move.
But still they seemed only to plow along,
Though church bells did render a much louder gong.
If a new life is foretold by such chimes,
I just hope they herald the advent of good times.
In concert clock and bell voice vulnerable dismays;
Their message, “Time grows shorter to find happy days.”

poem by Gregory Huyette
Added by Poetry Lover
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