A Chatter With My Daughter

Why is this time

Slipping by so fast, Papa,

Like a fistful of fine sand from my clutch,

Like water droplets on our windshield,

Like a lone feather floating mid-air?

I have my things to do:

Relaxing on bed

Long after my sleep's gone;

Playing with my teddies

To my heart's content;

Seeing the sparrows

Building their nest;

Riding my new bike

As and when I please!

Time doesn't slip by, my darling!

We mortals rather decay

Each day,

Flesh by flesh,

Bone by bone,

Little realizing the lone truth

That waits ahead;

Thus, faking all these trash

We do in between

To delay the Meeting

That's but due.

I too have my things to do:

Idle my whiles away

Like there's no tomorrow;

Play with you – my only teddy –

To my heart’s content;

Amass peace and happiness

In abundance,

Little caring for the world.

But none so far has gotten

Why time slips by, so fast.

Fret not, my daughter,

Grow up slow,

As you live your life,

Even up to those split seconds,

So you leave your footprints

On sands of this time

For posterity to tread on.