The days have seem to go by so slowly
They tick like the clock on the wall
With each passing, with each tick,
Our lives become enmeshed
How far apart we have come,
Looking at each other day by day,
Going about our routine,
Like the hands on the clock
Not knowing what each other think,
Yet we speak each day,
Thoughts are put out there for each other,
Yet we do not speak out loud.
We are so close together,
Yet we are so far apart
We speak not of our dreams and goals,
We speak not of our wants and needs,
We speak not of what is
Just of what was
The hands pass each other daily,
Inch by inch, and tick by tick,
Knowing only the present, not the past,
Yet the past is always upon us,
Gliding in unannounced,
Always a reminder of things that do not last,
Or things that was mistaken
Yet not forgotten
Time passes slowly and each day goes by
Like the hands of the Hour
Do you know what will be?
Or what once was?
The present is here and showing its face
The hands knows not the past
Time knows not the future,
Just what is now,
Yet we see our past go by us
We see each other as then
Walking by each other,
Like the hands on the clock
Yet not seeing each other,
Yet we have faces
Time passes, yet, we seem not to,
The hands go by slowly, and we follow along,
Clocks change, people change, but we still tick on
We still use our hands and we still see our faces
But we notice not, each other,
The days have seemed to go slowly by.
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