The Human Race (rondeau 1)

Time marches on to the hour glass

Keeping step as the moments pass

Time carves its chasms on my face

No magic potion can erase

The truth found in the looking glass


No reason to be brash or crass

While reaching for the ring of brass

And living in this state of grace

Time marches on


I will not balk at this morass

I’d rather age with poise and class

Not sprinting through as though a race

Instead I’ll tread a steady pace

And finish neither first nor last

Time marches on


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