Saturday, February 2, 2013
Time is ﬂeeting by, never stopping
To hear the water from the rose petal dropping
Into the softened earth that gives us breath
The same earth which holds us after death
So much to do, so much to give
So much to see, we can’t help but live
For the time is ﬂeeting, never stopping
To hear the withered rose petal dropping
To the chilling earth that beckons death
The same earth that holds our every breath
Of somber wind and playful breeze
Of peaceful lakes and roaring seas
That know not that time which slips away
That know not that death that shall come one day
To meager mortals, as they sit dying
Who can do nothing but complain how their time is ﬂying
With the hummingbird: it is here, it is gone.
Days are so desolate when spent all alone
With only the clock as a friend
The day will soon end
As the life of a small rose petal, dropping to the softened earth.
What gentle mirth will be when there is no time.
I have been getting the last 25 years of poetry I have written put all together. I've come across several I wrote as a teenager, and thought, "What the heck!! Let's post this old stuff!!" I was a little more dark and introspective back then....