My friends are Seconds, we are sixty in all,
Moving slightly fast, we are precise though small,
Ticking away steadily without a stop,
We do not run or jump or skip or hop;
And when the sixty seconds have been done,
I take over and continue the run,
I am Minute and have fifty nine friends too,
We are also precise and don’t stick like glue;
Then when their sixty minutes have gone past,
I take over, I am Hour and the last;
We all work in harmony in perfect rhyme,
Seconds, Minutes and Hours are our time.
poem on time