THE TIME TO STAY IS PASSED
Sometimes it seems
We are just digging holes
And filling them up
Collecting memories
Of days gone by
Stuck on the refrigerator
Stickers and tickets
Photos of someone
Seasons come and go
Snow falls on spring
Summer a blink
Soon it is winter again
With its chilly shadows
Like a ride on a merry-go-round
We travel the same road
Over and over
Never getting anywhere
Just getting older
Unlike Gypsies
Whose adventures are always
Someplace interesting
Never put down roots
Home is wherever they are
The boxes are packed
A wishbone included
Loaded into the truck
The time to stay is passed
April 3, 2018
Come into the light
Give up your hiding
Guessing games are tiring
Chilled to the bone
April 3, 2018
4 comments:
The passing of time seems to go so fast these days.
I agree with Bjorn, it seems time nowadays is slipping right out of our hands.
Wow, I just posted my poem, which I wrote yesterday, and it had a gypsy in it, and talk of always moving......I saw Shay's poem had a gypsy too, so I changed mine to vagabond. We are all on the same frequency, it would appear. I love this poem of reflection.........we have learned to live lightly tethered, at our age, I think.
I particularly love the detail of the wishbone included.
Post a Comment