No Retrieval

The past is a thief raping us of our present having as its minion, time.

The illusionary clock upon the wall transfixes us with chime.

Possession of the now is a mere delusion. Here one minute...gone the next.

Each hour fights for passage leaving us in want and perplexed.

Nostalgia taunts the masses with bygone simplicities of youth.

'Tis but another minion of the past flagrantly uncouth.

So what does one do while they remain and subsist?

Ah! Keep the mind astute despite the next hour being missed!