I can’t really be mad
at time
for leaving.
I mean
it wasn’t built to hand around.
I guess my one little quibble
if I had one
and I don’t mean to offend
dear time
(chose your enemies wisely they say).
do you have to take
so much with you?
I mean you have those fat little pink baby cheeks
and stubby, chubby hands
night-time cuddles
and sisterly huddles
the new baby haze
countless Summer days.
You even took my father’s gaze.
Maybe you would be so kind
as to, on occasion
fling something back from where it’s gone
for me to hold here in my palm?
a bittersweet parcel of time now gone?
Or maybe
that is called
a memory.

About eatmystreet

Join in the joie de vivre.
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One Response to Time

  1. helen says:

    Love it!!

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