Ticking Clock

Tick-tock, I whisper, a relentless refrain,

A steady drumbeat echoing through the vein.

I am Time, the sculptor, etching lines on your face,

Stealing moments with an unhurried pace.

I hold the memories, a treasure trove vast,

Of laughter that echoed, of love that surpassed.

But I hold the goodbyes, the tears that were shed,

The dreams left unfulfilled, the words left unsaid.

I am a paradox, a friend and a foe,

A constant reminder of the ebb and flow.

I urge you to cherish each tick of the hand,

For the present is fleeting, a gift made of sand.

Don't waste me on worries, or dwell on the past,

Embrace the now, let your moments hold fast.

For even the grandest design must unwind,

But the beauty you create will forever be thine.

So hear my tick-tock, a gentle decree,

Live, love, and laugh, for that is to be free.

Let your spirit soar on the wings of each chime,

And leave your own mark on the fabric of time.