Time moves like a heard of wild horses running through the valley with wind rushing past them,
but it can be as still as a weeping willow hanging over a quiet blue pond.
Time can be as green as the lillypad with the pink flower flowing down the silent river,
or golden like the sun in the blue sky with fluffy white clouds around it.
Time can be lost like a gold mealion in the chest in the sunken ship for years and forgotten,
and found like a hawk soaring high above the trees in the clear blue sky.
Time is a window looking out on the green hills with the yellow sun peeking out from behind the clouds.