Time

What is time?
But a meaningless rhyme
of ticks and tocks
mad by the clocks.

That controls our lives 
untill we die
like a lonely man
standing in a sand

And I'd sit over there
in my little rocking chair
like a bird you may see,
in a tall willow tree.

Back and forth 
like a dwarf
or a soft gentle breeze 
blowing through the trees.

Forth and back 
Like a man that's slack
trying to fall 
like a building so tall.

So you see that time
is just a meaningless rhyme
That strikes at twelve
and resets like yourselves.

pinkpoet