Poetry By Chuck

Subtitle

 

The clock of life is wound but once
And no one has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.

 

Author's Questions/Comments


Interesting idea....  challenging life itself against itself in a chess contest.   

Comments

 

 

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