Tick-tock

Oh, make life’s moments count, my love

Its gilded offering pours

From heaven’s ether spring above

To sweat-and-blood-drop shores

For if we simply toss away

These moments that implore

Philandering its gifted splay

Then what’s the giving for?

And what’s this living for?

Oh, make love’s moments count, sweet-heart

For none of us can tell

When we will drink the final draught

Of moment’s from Time’s well

And none can carelessly afford

To waste its pulsing laud

For every moment that is poured

Returns again to God

From God to man to God

© Janet Martin

This time of year it seems like there are never quite enough tick-tocks in a day:) It's back to the garden for now.