The Meter of Our Lives

meter 3

 

Lives metered out in baby breaths

It seems some secret hand adjusts the metronome

And what do the miles on the odometer say?

work, work, work, play

Work, work, work, play

Though we think it flies and we think it drags

There is no meter that can measure

that elusive quality of time

Wake, wake, wake, sleep

Wake, wake, wake, sleep

the clock tells us

sixty seconds every minute

Sixty minutes every hour

Tick, tock, tick, tock

Tick, tock, tick, tock

We have a portion of time

Alloted from the beginning

Its rhythm is our own

Some melody, some cacophony

Some melody, some cacophony

Take care of the moments meted out

Fleeting and lovely

Store them up in memories

Reveries and dreams

Reveries and dreams

 

for PAD today…

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3 thoughts on “The Meter of Our Lives

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