The mists of Time are softer than
     a foggy morn or shifting sand;
Gliding by on slippered feet,
     she whispers cheating lies so sweet,
Of endless days and longer nights,
     a future drenched in rose-hued lights.

When I was young and I possessed
     all the joys of life, Time was my guest.
She sang a soothing lullaby
    and unawares the years flew by,
She eased the future from my grasp,
    and left me with my solitary past.

For what is youth that measures Time
     and thinks the years will leave behind,
No scars to mark Her passing glance,
     to show you played Her game of chance,
Now only memories linger on,
     for Love is lost and Time has flown.

She touched me with her silken hand,
     I yielded all my dreams so grand,
Yet still the memories linger on,
     though Love is lost and Time has flown.

Without a reason or a rhyme
That's the fickle hands of time
When I'm longing for a slower pace
They sweep,
Desirous of a speedy flight
They creep.

opened the door,

looked out to the night:

the black tar - stuck,

hiding the purest light.

head stops spinning,

chance to breathe still air,

as the jaded mirrored reflections

invade my milky stare.