Not a cheerful poem. But short.
Time
hurtles forward
relentlessly
like a hawk
on a mission to kill…
I hang, helpless,
gripped by the sharp talons
of its mad rushing flight
to oblivion
***
Your thoughts? 🙂
Not a cheerful poem. But short.
Time
hurtles forward
relentlessly
like a hawk
on a mission to kill…
I hang, helpless,
gripped by the sharp talons
of its mad rushing flight
to oblivion
***
Your thoughts? 🙂
"And where did you learn the art of not lasting long?" "Here", you answered
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Crossed Eyes and Dotted Tees 
Thankfully short! You left us hanging!
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😀
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Sad poem, Ellie! It makes me think of a poem on the same subject but in a quite different style: Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill.” My favorite lines are “Time held me green and dying/Though I sang in my chains like the sea.” That’s the secret, isn’t it? To sing.
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You got that right, Gerri!! And we must enjoy the singing for its own sake, and not think about the end of the song too much.
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