Poem of the day.

Ticking.....tick, tick, tick, tick.
The clock goes
Slowly but changing
Rapidly but not destructive
Time after time it goes.
When the rain falls
It does tick.
When the mountains rumble and decides to take a stroll
It ticks.
How be it the houses starts speaking
It ticks, it's time.
Not withstanding the water flies. Time.

Some swore that everything that goes up
Must surely come down, so nothing can fly,
The plane flew.....time.
The son of the rich and the son of the poor took a stroll through time
And the seed of the poor grew....time.
How offending great nations fall and tumble...time
It ticks and ticks
Slowly but changing
Rapidly but not saying a word.

The skies look bright but evening would tell.
I pondered once where be it the skies go dim...time
My poor little brother right in the bosom of mother
Grew tall..tall and tall without my eyes a glimpse....time.

Can a hug hold time?
Can a kiss paste stars on time?
Can a gold plated diamond  hands hold time ransom?
Can I have my little cottage where the stream of my childhood
Flows through?
Can my aunts come back to me?
Can that friend I cherished more than life who died in the milk of age
Meet me where three roads meet and move with me back home?
No way, for the root that rottens with time may never heal.

By Minka,