Have you visited a graveyard lately
And wandered by the plots?
Some are neat and tidy
With flowers trim in pots,
Where someone has cleared the grime,
Taken care and given time.

Whilst other sites do show neglect,
They're fairly overrun with weeds,
And beneath them lie the dusty bones,
Forgotten words, forgotten deeds
Of someone, perhaps, whose only crime
Was leaving no one to give them time.

For time is all we have to give,
It bonds us to our kin,
When mixed with love it binds us strong
To friends, when times are grim.
The hills of life are eased to climb
When shared with those who give us time.

For time is like life's mortar,
It binds the bricks we use
To build a house where God may dwell,
It's up to us to choose.
As sharing makes our life sublime,
For all we have to give is time.