"Time Gone By"

"As the cuckoo flies,” they say,
Or some other benign phrase
To explain the seconds turning into hours
That make up time gone by;

There are no easy answers
In the days in between,
Where the future and past coincide and collide
Forming memories of time gone by;

Time gone by is in enigma -
Some thing we cannot hear, nor see, nor touch;
And all at once it becomes all too much
Pacing to keep up with the ebb of the tide;

Our steps make patterns in the shifting sands
But washed away in a moment‘s time
So softly and swiftly, til we suddenly see
A shimmer, the end of the line;

We search for the spark that glints in our view
As fog creeps into our visions way
Doing it’s best to obscure the site
Of respite at the end of a long, weary day;

No, there is no logic to time gone by
No sense, no reason, no rhyme
So as it goes, the tapestry unfolds
Til' the final thread, the end of the line.