Father Time with his scythe so grim
Wields power over time's swiftest whim
He waits and watches patient and serene
As seasons ebb and flow in between

The Winter comes and Father Time
Decrees the Earth must journey and climb
Toward slumber's dark and frigid embrace
He whispers in the frost's white lace

Then Spring awakens with a quickened start
As Father Time ever began his ancient art
Of weaving vivid colors into the days
And blesses Earth in our Sun's warm rays
He splashes the skies with blue and green
Breathing new life into each gorgeous scene
...