Time Is Of The Essence

   Misguided child of five at mother's side.

A boy too young to conquer unknown lands.

His youth to him means none respect his pride,

And all he knows is no one understands.



So soon a man of thirty fighting time,

While business isn't doing well enough.

His hair is grey in what's to be his prime.

Now missing mother's arms, his life is tough.



Now fifty, he's got kids out on their own.

Though times of strife are gone, he won't forget

That life has passed him by without a throne

At mother's grave he piles his regrets.



Do not be fooled like this old man you see.

To cherish every day - yes, that's the key