Time

The old man on the park bench

Mutters to himself something

He has read or heard somewhere:

It is easier to forget

Than be forgotten;

Time flies when young.

The green peacocks

That cannot fly

Turn red in season;

Time moves in various colours.

The parrots cannot be still or quiet

They screech from tree to tree

Seem always in a hurry;

Time is frenetic around them.

The funeral procession 

Pauses every now and then

To set off serial crackers

What are they celebrating

But the death of time.