Time Poem by Aditya Raj Verma

We all say its God's chime,
Say, when to run and when to dine,
Every bit juggles in hands of time,
Neither yours nor mine.

Someday its apple, someday its pine,
Time even makes a better wine,
My sorrows or happiness of thine,
Neither yours nor mine.

Flooding rains or scorching sunshine,
Still ticks from 9 to 12....12 to 9,
Unbroken, incessant, ceaseless is its regime,
Neither yours nor mine.

Cheerful days or eyes in pain saline,
Joyous companies or lonely pastime,
Good were moments or bad are times,
Sooner or later all this,
Will neither be yours nor be mine.