The passage of time

The passage of time, a river that flows,

Unseen, it moves, where nobody knows.

It slips through our fingers like sand through the sky,

A whisper of moments that pass and go by.

It paints all our faces with traces of years,

A map of our joys, and our quietest fears.

In the blink of an eye, the seasons will change,

And life rearranges, both subtle and strange.

The passage of time, a constant refrain,

It calls us to follow, but we cannot remain.

It dances with dawn and fades into dusk,

A tender reminder, fragile and just.

It carries our laughter, it gathers our tears,

A song that we hum through the span of our years.

It births every memory, yet makes them slip fast,

Leaving behind only shadows that last.

The passage of time, both cruel and kind,

It softens the edges, yet leaves us behind.

But in its relentless, unyielding embrace,

We find fleeting beauty, a slow, steady grace.

For though it may steal, it also bestows,

The gift of the present, as it ebbs and it flows.