Time is passing, are you?

Philosophical poetry. What do you think it means?

A bundle of pink,
a princess;
who sits
upon a rock throne,
with an oak saber,
rather synonymous with queen,
of nature,
of the hollow willow trees,
a polka-dotted ladybug,
silent crickets,
lolling frogs
atop lace lilly pads
in a clearing.

A pond,
as luminous as mortar,
sparkles - gleams
against the sun
like a mirror
majestic,
she sits, skips, laughs
as the clock spins,
years, months, weeks, days
eternity.

She gazes at her countenance,
with the splash of water,
from smoothed hands
skipping pebbles,
a new face reflects back,
older, wiser, changed;
she walks away,
a bundle of pink.

time is passing, are you?