Time flies.

Says who?
Birds fly, creating invisible streams in the sky, gently floating over our world and landing silently.
Bees fly, from flower to flower, doing a job gracefully and with a determination you can only aspire to.
Airplanes fly, filled with people who are going to better places for fun, or home for reunions,or to exciting cities for business.
Time is a bird or bee or plane?
NO! Time is a carpenter and one of little skill.
Time has a chisel for my face, leaving behind furrows in my brow and creases around my eyes and mouth. Time has a tiny hammer that pounds on my joints and bones leaving soreness and pain. Time has wood putty which it uses to generously pad my midsection.
Yet when you think of it, carpenters take wood and create intricate tables...time takes little babies and creates adult people.
For all my complaints and whining, I think that I will think of myself as not an aging woman, but as a weathered, antique table, more valuable for it's longevity and preservation.

I'd go on, but look at the time...time flies, you know.