Spheres are spinning – winding time.
Hear the echoes of a chime
Toll the hour – once here, now gone -
Days are tallied by their tone
And then you're telling time.

Grains are slipping by and by
Down the glass of memory.
Reaching with your groping hands
You gather fistfuls of time's sands
And then you're buying time.

Candles flicker as they're burning
With the planets' constant turning:
Flashing out, while stars remain
To captivate your eyes again,
And then you're taking time.

Days are long and days are short
It all depends upon the sort
Of things you fill your hours with:
First double every tenth to fifth
And then you're making time.

Drops are falling ever steady
Splashing, clashing – soft and ready.
Cupping hands beneath the flow
You hold back moments that would go
And then you're saving time.

Hearts are beating every hour
Thrumming with a hidden power.
Time waits for no man, they say
E'en as you idle it away
And then you're killing time.

Clocks are ominously ticking,
Second hands forever flicking
Moments from present to past
Until, at last, you're at the last,
And then you're out of time.

Poet's Note:
Listen to Peter Crowley's "Time Will Catch me First" on YouTube while reading for a truly ticking experience!