by Marilu Suchar
Time just seems to slip away from us.
The day of our birth and every year thereafter
Just marks a measure of time
I look back…..
I see a little girl running barefoot
Down a dirt road
I watch her pick a dandelion
To bring to her mom
I count with her as she skips rope.
Now she’s running through a field
With her dog – the sun reflecting
off her long shiny, blond hair
Then I hear “Pomp and Circumstance”
She is graduating.
I look forward ….
She walks with a limp as she tends
Her many flowers
She goes slow as she mows the
Grass from her lawn
She stands, stretches her back as
She shovels – just a little more snow.
Or creeps carefully over an icy spot in the driveway
Carefully she makes her way to the mailbox with a
Knitted cap over her gray curls. Hoping
For just a note from someone.
This is today – she has reached that magic year,
Time has run out.
Psalms 90: 9-10
“For all our days are passed away in thy wrath;
we spend our years as a tale that is told .
The days of our years are threescore years and ten;
and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years,
yet is strength labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off,
and we fly away.”
Where did the time go? How does it end?
God gives us just so much …..
Happy days – Sad days – worry days – all gone.
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- POETRY CORNER: Contrails
- POETRY CORNER: God’s Wonders
- POETRY CORNER: Impressions of the old farm
- POETRY CORNER: Be Still
- POETRY CORNER: She Can’t Remember (to Katherine)
- POETRY CORNER: Gone are the Days
- POETRY CORNER: I am a veteran
- POETRY CORNER: Dirty Snow
- POETRY CORNER: Eat, Sleep, Repeat
- POETRY CORNER: Sweet Dreams