Passing, slowly, ever passing
Never stops to wait for me.
Ticking, going, always asking,
Have you used me thoughtfully?
Had I power to stop it’s running,
Oh the tasks I think I’d do
What advantages I’d measure
Could I steal an hour or two.
Yet never can I slow the plodding
Of my ever ticking clock
And I find I’m always racing
Just behind . . . Never on top.
Until I stop.
Until I realize that the things
That make life lovely
Aren’t bound in by hours or days
They are thoughtful gestures,
Conversations at cafes.
Photographs from our wedding
Crayon pictures from the kids,
These, the things I truly treasure,
From time’s hands in heart I’ve hid.
Yes, the clock continues going,
Yes, I’m racing here and there,
But always thinking, never forgetting
Of the moments, and memories,
when time mocks me and
August 10, 2011