always running never stopping by
to say hello to check in on me
on you on anybody but never late
in the end always right when it should be

everyone has a moment the moment
when the now becomes the now and the then
the past the future the ever distant always
just out of reach but sure to make an appearance
and it seems to relish the irony of how we beg
how we plead for a little more attention
but then get scared when it comes
because it always seems early

we hate it I think you and me and everybody
when it passes by never waving or saying
good morning good night how are you
what are your dreams

and it never tells us what it sees
running always forwards only backwards
in our dreams and the pictures in our heads
of so many forgotten yesterdays

never will we catch it
resting by the road
or chatting with another

never can we know
exactly how it passes

always passing and never late

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