The end of youth

Once when time was just a thought,
The Spring and Winter wrapped up.
Like a songster's thoughtful chord.
No rush, no problems, could be stirred.

Instead there was the moment, forever born
Anew, the daisy, fresh, again and again.
Then slowly, it creeped, the scent of Autumn,
The dew of Winter, the heat of Summer.

No longer so trapped in an endless cycle.
Now it 'twas a slow but moving story.
Soon to terminate, soon to end.
Why did it not feel like this before?

Time has slipped, or is slipping.
I am powerless to defend
Against its tide,. no man can wade.
Tomorrow, what is that, but another?

Another day, another evening,
And soon, too soon, our last.