Once upon a time, not too long ago, was a little kid playing with a glove and ball.
When Daddy’d come home, I’d run to him, grateful for time and attention that, to me, he’d give.
Few years later, lived Friday Night dreams: breaking games wide open—made those bleachers scream.
Dream raised me up, helped me down that road, and every step then led to this path I own.
Time flies like a ball in back, father-son playing catch, holding those small life chats.
Time flies like dust down the road, teenager out of town can’t wait to go.
Time flies to God-knows where. Don’t wonder when it’s gone, make the most while it’s there.
Hoop earrings, blue-green eyes, something in her presence made me have to try.
Pizza in an alley, first-kiss that the night, total magic in the moment; man, it all felt right!
Stars shining in eyes led to baby cries, “I dos”—but not that order—what became my life.
Time flies, like a racing heart; first time you say “I love you,” and a future starts.
Time flies like baby cries: bottles, diapers, cuddles, and those sleepless nights.
Time flies to God-knows where. Don’t wonder when it’s gone, make the most while it’s there.
Life’s far from line. It circles round. Different dreams than led you out return you to that town.
On same ball fields, we watch our children play: different angle to same stories that we lived in the day.
Time moves on. Children grow—learning, finding, purpose on the path they chose.
Then comes day when they move away, stare on that dust cloud rising as they make that race.
Time flies like a ball in back, father-son playing catch, holding those small life chats.
Time flies like dust down the road, teenager out of town can’t wait to go.
Time flies to God-knows where. Don’t wonder when it’s gone, make the most while it’s there.
I call my dad, need to talk: empty nest, home is too quiet, and I’m feeling lost.
Silence settles in, sense tears in his eyes. I can’t see them, but I feel when he says:
“Time flies.”
“Son, time flies like a ball in back; seems like only yesterday when I’m looking back.
Time flies, can’t keep hold. Do best to shape and mold, then let them go.
Time flies to God-knows where. Son, you know I love you, and that I’m still there.
Time flies. Don’t ask why. Make most with what we’re given…before it all goes by.”