Time helps us grow,
Which lets us know,
About everything good and bad,
Making us feel happy, sad or mad.

Time can allow us to for see,
Where, what and who we want to be.
Time beings about loss,
But heals ours wounds after our falls.

Time finds us kinds of friends,
It determines their stay until our ends.
Time forgives and forgets our sins,
Giving us a chance to eventually have our wins.

Everything is in due time,
Once written in a knowledgeable rhyme.
Time passing is not determined only by the clock's chime,
But by how we use it in our prime.

It's never the quiet ones they say,
Hopefully they realise the real truth someday,

Quiet hearts inwardly cry,
While they silently watch loved ones slowly die.

Quiet eyes hide their immense pain,
It's a wonder how they are still sane.

Quiet minds hold the most fascinating thoughts,

Quiet mouths hold nothing but truth,
But they won't say it was you.

Quiet voices want scream out loud,
But only do when there's no one around.

There he sat, unfathomable irises in a trance,
Anytime I spared him a glance.
I always did wonder why,
He clutched the book with a strong hold,
And occasionally releases a blissful sigh,
But still manages to be stone cold.

Sometimes though, there were better days,
Which was proven by his frequent stays,
And also the uplifting of his cheeks,
Which gave his grim face just the right tweaks.

When the teasing drizzles of one night turned to showers,
He stiffly sat like he had during the preceding hours.
Although the book was still in his possession,
And it's enigma his obsession,
I saw something that I never thought would be,
Those caged eyes were finally free.
As tear tainted rain ran down his face,
I found myself wishing I was in his place.

I wanted to know how it felt,
To not be held hostage by all with which you've dealt.
But how was I to know that when the die was cast,
That fateful day ended up being his last?