Time Flies

Dry hands, smeary glasses - ain’t it funny how time passes?

Warned I was when I was new and little, that soft, green bones would soon turn brittle.

Deaf ears blocked, intent on fun; too busy playing in the sun.

Safe in the knowledge that I was special – beyond the laws of earth and metal.

Thinking I would be immortal. How the ancient Gods must chortle?

Conquer the world at a later date; my lofty plans can surely wait.

Time stretches out beyond, beyond - a cosmic ocean, not a pond.

And yet it seems in one short breath, there’s more behind than what is left.

Leather skin, hairy chin; achy legs, fermented eggs.

Can it be I’m getting old? Pushing back my eye-lid fold?

It can’t be true. I am not ready. I’ve barely grown out of my teddy.

Thoughts thudding in my heavy brain - a fat, black fly on a foggy pane.

Trench of Mariana? Caves of bats’ guano?

Don’t seem like so much fun now, I’m worried about quite how,

I’m going to stay alive.

Speeding up, can’t catch my breath - careering faster towards death.

But what of greatness? What of fate? Let others clutch the pearly gate.

And so it seems I’m not the one.

How quick time flies when you’re having fun.

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