A rhyme isn’t Time but
A thyme
On the meal of time
Rhyming
As the trying wheel of time
Ticks and tocks and locks the doors to nothing more.
Taking a bite on the byte, hoping to moor,
On the pier of data that we see.
Rhyming
See what I see.
Sighing.
Seeing no more. A little piece of thyme, on the meal of time, riding the packets of data to shore.