Time can be a conceited devil of a problem,
Snatching opportunities and curtailing plans.
It tolerates lethargy and halcyon day-dreams,
But abruptly draws the curtains on evermore.
Childhood adventures never entertained ends,
There was a sense of this life cruising onwards.
Birthdays used to be fun and wishfully desired,
Too soon decades become three score and ten.
Many horizons of unaccomplished hopes wait,
Busy days and years consume freedom and age.
Sharing experiences between back then and now,
Photographs trigger the instances of fun or tears.
Time is an inflexible master, who seeks accuracy,
It sweeps today towards tomorrow without mercy.
Little wrinkles of irritation appear from no-where,
Grey hairs peep out of place without any warning.
Alarm bells ring when tiptoeing creaks fragile joints,
Remember when we danced through a whole night.
This life is merely a pinpoint in universal existence,
Time keeps watch as we move between generations.
©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 10/06/2015
Poets United Mid-Week Motif: ‘Time.’..