Sunday, January 8, 2012



By May Kwek

When it ought to be slow
It decides to be fast
When it ought to be quick
Time simply won’t pass

Prolonging our sorrows
And shortening out joys
Is this man’s curse
Or the Devil’s toy?

The seasons don’t change
By illusions they’re not chained
To the sky, time is constant
As it is to the rain

Time, time
A fickle friend
Forever constant
To all but man

Copyright © 2012 by May Kwek

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