Ancient Father Time has come and gone,

the edge of space he seeks, he struggles, strives.

Young Mother Time approacheth, long withdrawn,

and Spring reverses spring when she arrives.

Each latchkey kid of time steps out of self

and looks back upon pleasant days now past.

Perspective makes solution crystal clear

regarding how the first becomes the last.

As Mother trades with Father, drains his cup,

and Time’s elixir flows to final down,

as golden liquids trickle bottoms up,

and thorny roses grow below the town;

The horror hope of life, a child reborn.

A baby latchkey kid the world must mourn.