Time’s Toll

A quarter glints in the sun, bright and bold,

while the meter ticks, counting down what we hold.

I reached for my pocket, fingers fumbled for change,

life moves too fast, it feels all so strange.

A ticket flutters, a stark judgment displayed,

yet in this hurry, who cares if we played?

Concrete echoes under weary shoes,

but each little minute brings more to lose.

Ticking relentlessly, the minutes do fly,

like days slipping past, we all wonder why.