Time (Poem of the Week)


Sophia Boxold, Creative Writing Editor


A mysterious thing.

As every second ticks by,

Somebody dies

And all that’s left is a memory.


We will never know

How much time we have,

Until we are approached

And take our last breath.


We will never know

How much time means,

Until someone we love

Is taken by this mysterious being.


So we must treasure

All the happy and special moments,

With the people we care for before

The hourglass within us is broken