Feared by most,
Loved by a few.
Many view it as a ghost,
And the others view it as the morning dew.
Never has it paused to catch its breath,
Never has it held back for a friend.
Never has it stood by to pay its condolences on someone’s death,
Never has it thought of coming to an end.
Some run along its side
The others try to catch up.
Some look up to it with pride,
Some let it go like wasted tea in a cup.
It’s as sweet as pie,
As sour as lime.
No complains no cries
The world calls it time.
By Tarusha Singh
Scottish High International School
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