It is something we all follow,
A guardian in the schedule of life,
One that can cause great strife.
We are all running before it passes,
There... yet we can not touch,
Only memory holds the truth of such.
As expected as the blink of an eye,
As dreaded of a love's passing by.
Time is all around,
Something that will never change.
An everlasting curtain drawn upon a stage.