crossing the lane

some changes are depressing we resist
them not because of hatred but from pain
others are those that bring us hope or gain
and for those reasons do we still persist
but we find every day a turn or twist
that marks all matters in a manner plain
showing what's with and what against the grain
in praise or blame we each uplift a fist
there's nothing here that counts but time
so we have that to measure every second
and it marks all our steps to man from boy
it tells us when we've reached our little prime
from it so many things may then be reckoned
it tells off every sorrow and each joy