Tempus Fugit...Sometimes Poem by Stanley Cooper

Time goes by fast when your having fun
The day seems to end before it’s begun
But when you’re in pain or tempers are flaring
Time just stands still and the day’s overbearing

How does that happen? How did time get so wise?
When does it slow down or perhaps compromise?
Seems to me, time has something inherent
Running it smoothly or terribly errant

Why does tempus fugit, like it’s running a race?
When does it slacken to a more steady pace?
If it ever would it’s secrets reveal
Time for us would be much less surreal