Time

I remember when my mother at about my age talked about time being on “fast forward.” That was during the days of cassette tapes and when she said that I could picture time chugging ahead at full speed. I agreed with her that time was flying by. Sadly when she was a few years older and living in an extended care facility she said that time was passing so slowly, the days and nights were very long.

I often think of the mystery of time.

What is it?
Where does it go?
Does it fly?
Or, does it crawl by?
What makes the difference?

It seems we just celebrated the various holidays of December, yet we are into the second month of the new year, the new decade. To me, time is flying, yet some days seem long. Time is a mystery.

Photos by Pixabay

Guest Poet

“Ode to Time Change” by Pat Bush, November 4, 2018

My body says, “Wake up! You’re late”!
The lids get heavy, the clock says wait!
It’s not 9:30 but half past eight!
Am I early or am I late?
Sleep deprived or do I feel great?
Oh, how I hate this dance we do,
Is it one or is it two?
Twice a year, I adjust the time.
My body says, “This is a crime”.
Let me be, leave me alone.
Am I eastern or central time zone?
Early to bed, early to rise?
I’m not healthy, wealthy, or wise.
Just trying to adjust my eyes,
To whatever they are supposed to do.
Is it one or is it two?

The paper’s read, the puzzles done.
Hey, I even see the sun!
Full of energy until six or seven, but the body feels, it’s really eleven.
Then darkness whispers, “Goodnight, friend.
“The day is finished, it is the end”.
The clock reveals a different truth.
It’s still quite early. I cry,” Forsooth”!
The head bows down, then, snaps to attention.
I think I’m in another dimension.
Good night earth, goodnight moon.
What the hell, it’s only noon!