Time

a poem by Pritish P

Time is the one,
who waits for none.
Waiting for him, is
always a one.

Once past never to
return is he.
He is precious to all,
even to a bee.

When you are with time,
then he is with you.
Your relationship would
grow, as a grass and dew.

Clock runs with time,
and not the time with clock.
Like man if lazy he was,
He’d be a laughing stock.