I will not lie and suggest it doesn’t shock
Change is so subtle that it goes almost
Unnoticed in the familiar, your body to
Which I am as accustomed as to my own
Moves around me, its faultlines evident and
Marked just as the wrinkles that drag on
Mine mock my mortality so that it can no longer
Be denied or ignored, your frailty comes as a
Sudden surprise, my darling, change so subtle
That it has gone almost unnoticed, time has
An astonishing effect, its outcomes, not always
Welcome, or received as happy news. We are
Old, my darling. It is a consequence of time
And its subtle, almost unnoticed changes
I will not lie or suggest it does not shock
Time and the river wait for noone. Photos © Tamara Beck.
I have expunged so much and so many from my recollection
When they come creeping in, it’s on ghost feet
Sometimes I welcome the newly remembered
Sometimes I dread the associations they bring me
Some memories amuse, others confuse, some
Simply disabuse me of my moral superiority, I
Have not served truth or justice, not always,
Just sometimes; glory is not mine to strut or savor,
Not always, just sometimes, Who were you? Who was I?
We will never be this young again
We always knew that, but didn’t
Believe it, until one day, looking
At pictures of how we were, when
We were that young, smiling photos,
The happiness blended with youth,
We had to confess that time had
Passed, happily and with the stealth
Of time slipping by, unnoticed and
Quieter than the images of those young
Happy people looking back at us
Opaque or transparent? …Lest I Forget
Some six months ago, I shut down one of my many blogs,
and transferred much of its content to this one. I fully intended to put new content here and leave the Observations: Lest I Forget site to history. …Lest I Forget
Truth is, I have a lot about which I wish to opine, and enjoy doing so in different
fora and diverse platforms. So is being revived today, with fresh content all its own. Observations: Lest I Forget
Daily Prompt: Murmuration
Photo © Tamara Beck.
Spring announces its arrival in whispers with an appearance of tulip buds and
flocks of starlings.
Setting the clock back an hour for a species daylight saving is just icing on spring’s cake.
As for the time, let me
At 9 o’clock that’s really 10 o’clock, that is really 9 o’clock, I contemplate the nature of time.
As midnight strikes somewhere on
December 31st, a distant time from now, this spring time about to be, the New Year cascades in ever echoing murmurs around the globe.
When and where is it truly 12 o’clock, the middle of the night? We cannot seem to get a fix on the
time today, March 12th, when we have set our clocks back. 10 a.m. is an artifice today.
time relative, or can it be fixed? Can being late be an alternate fact?
Sleepy and slothful,
Letting age rob him of every impulse to move,
As time runs out, it is no longer of concern
Or even interest, as it passes from night to day
And back again.