When you lost it ?

The Time , was never adequate ,
but some how it was my mate .
Every night , I slept late;
for the next day,a passionate wait.

The hour hand of the clock,
ran like the minute hand,
fast ,tick tock tick tock,
the minute was a twin of the second.

And in a split of a second ,
i lost it,
my mate ,
me myself as passionate,
for nothing , it was to wait.

It taught me a lesson,
with ample amount of time,
one does nothing, desires nothing,
except writes and posts his poems as something.