When
we are young and in our blush,
The
years drag by, they never rush.
We
know not of the hidden ploy
Of
what will bring the tears, the joy.
Though
slowly as time sneaks away
We
find ourselves in teenage fray.
We
grow, we work, time cannot stay
When
children are our workaday.
Before
we notice where it went
We
realise half our time is spent.
Our
kids move out, they know their plight
And
we adopt our onward flight.
Retirement
years are come at last
As
we begin our final blast
To
seek, to find, to have the fun
Of
travel, play, adventure, sun.
Then
wandering in fleeting thought
We
ponder just how 'now' was wrought.
And
surely as the autumn leers
We
find ourselves in senior years.
Time
to reflect, time to forget,
To reminisce, but not regret
To reminisce, but not regret
The
wonder of this precious strife
As
humans, conscious, dressed with life.
---
James Noel
11th
September 2019
I
don't know where these poems come from as I've never considered myself a
poet. This one came to me the other day, prompted by the thought "The
years slip by". While I’ve written a number of short stories,
it is only the forth poem I have ever written. All being in the last
20 years.
o0o