By Len A.Hynds

A thief called “time” despoils our life,
stealing our years away.
Entreating pleas won't change his course,
not for a single day.

And this thieving callous “time”,
so oblivious to our pain.
Will have his way without remorse,
and tears are all in vain.

This monster lays his fiendish hand,
on beauty and on plain.
Those rich or poor, or good or bad,
will all display his stain.

Try as you may to circumvent,
his slow and crafty crime,
and to beg the villain to repent,
will not discourage “time”,

Nothing really will protect,
the high born or the low.
No one, nowhere, is sacrosanct,
there's no place that “time” won't go.