Where does the time go, that’s a saying put to a question
No longer a present, no longer the future, no longer the past
It goes, it slugs along, it races to the fence, it doesn’t last
Where does the time go? It’s fleeting, it flies to drift along on a breeze
And wishing time was a kite, to be guided, to be pulled into the wind before the fall
Rescuing the innocent spaces, briefly consoling and cajoling the humor through it all
Where does the time go, when all else fails before it slips through your fingers
Tugging away and pulling like you have an illusive eel in your grasp!
Before losing your grip you grab the tail and heave a longing gasp!