It flies by us, when we're having fun.
It makes the moon rise, and lowers the radiant sun.
It wrinkles a young face, with old age.
It breaks a teenager's bond's, from the motherly cage.
It beats a mountain, until it falls.
It births a child, whenever life calls.
It changes the verses, while you're reading this rhyme.
How this all happens, you will know, with time.
By Todd ©
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