As endless days roll by, like geese in flight,
they form a steady row, with graceful ease,
yet months and years, as if in secret tryst,
conceal their subtle art, like whispered pleas.

Sometimes it drags, a day, or even two,
when time seems sluggish, hesitant to move,
but then, too soon, once more we feel it's true,
the world's caught up in frenzy, in its groove.

And when one looks behind, to years gone by,
the numbers dance, like echos of a song,
one by one, they pass, with steadfast sigh.

In rhythmic march, forever moving strong.
One, two, three, years blend like colors on a wheel,
as time's relentless flow, does life reveal.

Tomaž Jevšenak