Afternoon of summer’s lazy days,
When teenagers are weeded from their beds,
Lounging,expecting entertainment.
Then its hoods up grunting at the screen,
Ninja nomads,
Suckered into distraction.

Vast tracts of time,
How long is a day?
How long does it feel?
Trying to remember how it stretched,
Like waiting for a Mass to end …
And then,  
Time trembles like an Olympic runner.
The time children with their hands over their mouths,
Giggling in the corner.
Just as you glance away,
Time sprints to tomorrow,
Bringing you closer to regret and
The “I wish I had done that day.”

Once you lose that grip,
And close your eyes,
Or look away in some distraction,
It’s gone forever.