April 17, 2013

Memoir


When young I ran so very well,
a machine with the smoothest hum.

I was always on the mark,
keeping time itself was fun.

Then I began to run too fast,
in a race against the sun,

'til one day I simply stopped,
before my time had come.

Those I passed so long ago,
ease past me now, one by one.

When they slow to have a look,
they wonder where I've gone.

For I no longer measure time,
other things must be done.

4/16/13