Passsage

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

The wonder of this precious strife

As humans, conscious, dressed with life.

--- James Noel

11^th 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