Running

Time runs on, 
That's what it
Does. Until we
Run out of it,
Time, that is.
It just keeps
Running, like 
A ticking clock.
You wouldn't 
Remember that
Sound, the one 
Of time running 
Out. The time
Marked by the
Hands on its
Analog face, each
Moment saluted
By a click of the
Second hand. It's 
An odd metaphor
Of time running
As a clock's hands
March on, in place.
Time is also said to 
Fly, but the measure
Of time sits on my
Arm or on the wall.
How can it be so
Fast, so fleeting?