It can be measured (often is),
Though it has never been seen.
It has no color of its own:
Not blue, nor white, nor is it green.
It can’t be successfully weighed
On balance or on a scale;
Yet it is always up for “grabs,”
Daily this object is for sale.
It has no height from which to fall,
Cannot be rolled into a ball
Is “long” or “short” by attitude,
Is loathed or loved with gratitude.
What is this thing o’er land and sea,
Ruling the dry and maritime?
Give up? Don’t you know it by now?
It’s the commodity man calls TIME. – eab, 3/3/05
Written in Kingston,Ontario,Canada
Separate-Holy 