The Thief

Slowly shifting, softly slipping by,
unseen, unheard, unhindered, going, gone,
elastic, light fantastic, now and then,
lost and never found, spinning round and round,
childhood toys and boys, some remembered noise,
they all are there and gone away, no more to say.
Flitting sights and dizzy heights, depths, despair,
no turning back, a one way track of faces,
sounds and places, shift your gaze and look again,
amazed, that 10, 20, 30 stand between you and your days,
atrophying, now 40 summers innocently play,
while life is taken far away from you and precious moments lost.
Friends and heroes, shards of broken life occasionally catch the light
and tumble out of sight, receding fast.
There is no time to spare, I hear you laugh.
But heed me well for time spares nothing in its path.