A child is born in 9 months,
Days that await earnestly,
Seems long enough in fronts,
Yet small enough after harmony.
Childhood days look back in flicker,
Brings back the urge to grow to an adult,
Then, it seemed long to trigger,
And now it seems to fast an occult.
Teenage outgrows a world so simple,
Filled with frolic unending,
Then, it saw smiles and twinkles,
And now it is deficit blending.
Adulthood is a work-in-progress,
A discovery each one unfolds,
Today it seems a tedious finesse,
Tomorrow is a death that beholds.
Life only seems slow today,
Yet quickly gone by in every track,
The bigger picture lies in array,
It still seems smaller as we look back.