Time can be an Overated object of amazing anoyance. Either inching slowly by, making its ocupants sweat with anxiaty. To see the future at one of the moments would be the elation of the waiting person. Or on the other side of the coin, it can race by at the most savored moments of life. Before the blinking of an eye, your fondest momemts, these you wish to cherish for eterity, will fly away like a starteld finch. such an overated thing time is.
This is a poem by my sister Ariel
