Time's Fluid Form

In the depths of time, a clock melts away, Like wax in fire, its edges fade to gray. The hands, once steady, now dance in disarray, As moments merge, and hours drift away. The blue waves rise, a liquid shroud, Enveloping all, in an endless cloud. The golden hue, a nostalgic gleam, Echoes memories, of a bygone dream. In this surreal landscape, time loses its might, As the clock's rigidity succumbs to the night. The Roman numerals, a testament to the past, Stand still, while the world around them is aghast. In this fluid form, we find our own reflection, A mirrored truth, of our mortal condition's inspection. For in the melting clock, we see our own demise, A reminder to cherish, the fleeting moments' surprise. Let us embrace the fluidity of time, And find solace, in its rhythmic rhyme.