Life goes on constantly, continuously, meticulously
without tarnish or blemish;
she is ever present, always changing, so she grows frequently,
if you stop to admire her you miss out on opportunity, pleasantries,
and might even cause life long atrocities, obscenities,
may even lose your sense of stability;
stumbling along your way, wondering how things went astray;
Life is precious, but taken in strides, its heavy like strong riptides and
undercurrents;
grabbing at hurt, crimping thighs;
She's viscous without remorse, discourse, or rebuke;
She lives in truth, never forsaking her past, all She knows
is drops and falls of the beads of sand inside her timeless hourglass;
She's as fine as dimes, smoother than silk or satin, but
stroked wrong or too long you feel her rough, rugged passion;
Life is everlasting,
She's eternally a classic;
breathing a perpetual breath with every second, minute, and hour;
days She spends, weeks persist to mend into months by fours equaling years by the score;
time is Life and Life is time;
She's a monotonous reminder that procrastination should be considered a true crime;
so treat Her like a virgin, gentle but rough
and when the pain subsides, remember there's no need to rush,
but be careful not to go to slow because death is always creeping up!