Flowing times ...

Like bad plumbing, time drips away

At times I forget to notice its demise

At times I remind me to get my hands wet

At times I try to judge its color and size

At times I measure it by the count of my smiles

At times I worry about the one, still in the pipe

At times I try to meditate on the dripping sounds

At times I get overwhelmed by the hype

May I change me, to appreciate this leak

At all times instead of at times

May I sing with its rhythm  

Without worrying about the rhymes