Passing Time Poem by Frederick Nellist

No spoken word but your kiss is kind
Have you fashioned my grave
You speak naught of the span you gave
Or when you feel inclined.

The thoughts of time confuse my mind
Will I taste dew this morn
Or lamentable tones of a hunting horn
Are you far behind.

In unperceived ways and always on time
Do I walk the road to hell
Is three score and ten my time to dwell
Or mountains still to climb.

Will a bell toll perhaps a clock chime
Is it now time to kill
Old father time has a quota to fill
It is only a matter of time.

Not revealing destiny has time a plan
My soul is singing a psalm
Who then gives warning, rings the alarm
Only time, nothing else can.