Lifetimes

Now ticks the clock that tells of tender time,
its sound resounds down halls of pristine youth.
When frogs and trees were valued more than gold,
and pain was banned with bandaid and a kiss.
Remembered days of life idealized,
by men who struggle daily to consume
their portion, for a watch of plated gold,
until that jesting hour comes at last.
Search approaching darkness for an answer,
find virtues they had hidden long ago.
What was lost had always been before them,
though habit of familiar left them blind.
At the last they weep abandoned value,
So tolls the clock that tells the tale of time.

© Deane P. Goodwin