Rush,rush, rush… Around me, the seconds flow past The minutes fly The hours march, The months creep slowly. I hardly feel the year’s progress Into the lap of what-has-been. I live in the present… That’s a conondrum As with every ticking second My present becomes the past. As I sit here, writing, My heart starts the next beat. I take my next breath. I am not what I was When I first thought of writing this. What a relentless river Time is.