…of the ever ticking clock

I cannot stop this ebb and flow
for the day turns to night and the night turns to day
the relentless hands of the ever ticking clock
they steal the days of my life
when petals have been shed like tears
my springs, like beauty, rest
then my summers fade away and pass, without a trace
the busy clock keeps turning that persistent key of time
and when all the leaves have danced away
my autumns too have had their day
the days grow dark and the cold seeps in
as the sudden shadow of winter falls
I cannot stop this ebb and flow
for the day turns to night
and the night will always return to day
© Ann Bagnall