Time

Was there ever a time without time,

with what was and is

and what will be?

It is the clock that tells us

that now has given way to past,

heedless of the future.

Only you and I project ourselves

into time as yet unborn

as we try to stop its onward march

with all the ravages, the wear and tear,

the inevitable mortality,

of time.

Yet time is also growth, anticipation.

The clock ticks on

a leaf floats down

a bud becomes a flower.

The clock ticks on

as is yields to was.

tick

tock

The clock ticks on

grandfather, cuckoo, alarm,

wind-up, atomic, biological,

wrist watch, church or city tower

tick

tock

tick

tock

Time

implacably moves on. 

The flower goes to seed

…and is no more.

The clock ticks on

and “now” becomes anticipation.

Waiting for the seed to bud

to turn into a flower.

Waiting for a touch, a smell, a breeze

to call forth memories

of things that were,

thankful for what is now and

hopeful for what will be.

2 thoughts on “Time

  1. Wonderful! I always write a poem for New Year’s too! Here’s mine, but sadly, without being able to step outside and see the Tower of the Moor! 🙂
    — David Perry

    I write a poem
    on New Year’s Day
    THIS
    New Year’s Day
    Like
    I usually do
    But
    Haiku
    Too short
    Villanelle
    Too, too
    Sonnet
    … oh please
    So
    I sew a quilt
    of words
    trying
    to try
    to tie
    the year that was
    into something
    Coherent?
    Calendars
    are a construct
    Julian?
    Gregorian?
    Who cares and
    Who knows
    WHAT?
    Will come next.
    The year that was
    Is gone
    On paper
    But
    Haiku
    Too short
    Villanelle
    Too, too
    Sonnet
    … oh please
    Please
    Breathe
    Hope
    Live and
    Keep on Keeping On.
    — David Eugene Perry

    Liked by 1 person

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