We are but minutes - little things Each one furnished with sixty wings, With each we fly on our unseen track, And not a minute ever comes back. We are but minutes - yet each one bears A little burden of joys and cares, Patiently take the minutes of pain, The worst of minutes cannot remain. We are but minutes - when we bring A few of the drops from pleasure's spring, Taste their sweetness while we stay, It takes but a minute to fly away. We are but minutes - use us well, For how we are used we must one day tell; Who uses us has hours to use, Who loses minutes, whole years must lose. -Anonymous
Seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary