The words, they come slower
The days, they go faster
As time goes by
Change is constant
As time dwindles
Nothing changes
A time, when all seemed possible
A past, where possibilities died
Memories of things
That never happened
People once loved
Love that crashed
The words, they come slower
The days, they go faster
Waterfalls stream
Rainbows shimmer
Days darken
Nights creep
Of friends, many remembered
Of others, mostly forgotten
Love was a thing
Beauty inspired
Light my life
Memories fade
The words, they come slower
The days, they go faster
About kingmidget
About the name. I was the youngest of four. Until I got to kindergarten, I didn't have much to say. All I had to do to get what I wanted was to point, and a sibling, or loving parent, would fulfill my request. As a result, my father coined the nickname -- King Midget. At least that's the way the story goes.
I am a father, husband, friend, and lover, writer, runner, pizza maker, baker, and many other things. What I am not is my occupation. It is my job that pays the bills and provides for my family. But, it does not define me.
Isn’t that how it often goes?
Lovely, Mark.
Thank you. I never know what to make of poetry, particularly when I write it.
I know what you mean. I keep trying it myself wondering why.
Days go faster, make your words match the pace. Or exceed it. We have that power.
Thanks for the poem, Mark. It’s a bit jolting to see a poem out of you, but I enjoyed it.
How do you think I feel? Far more jolting for me to write a poem. π
Gorgeous poetic summary of ageing
Great reading yoour blog