After booze, I have seen girls lose their shoes,
Socks and frocks.
I have lain awake at night listening to clocks.
Time moves on
And man’s youth is gone.
But, like moths to the flame
He returns again and again
To young women who
Play the old game.
But the clock mocks us all.
K Morris - Poet 
Indeed it does, Kevin.
Thank you for commenting, Vivienne. Time’s scythe does indeed come for us all in the end.