[In the late afternoon one does not often write the kind of poem one once wrote in the early morning glow. As with old wine, there often comes a bitter and yet not always unattractive aftertaste. It think this one is just as good as any of that stuff I sometimes post of that unknown poet from the Third Galaxy.
Just as I was writing this, I had to pause to help a dragonfly out of my living room that decided it had to tell me something -- it was quite large, it's colors were green speckled with white and black]
There was a time I could have picked the flowers
which grow upon
the burning mountains of the distant sun!
There was a time I would have fought the most
and conquered them, each and every one.
There was a time that I could fly so high,
beyond the sky!
But I was afraid of something, or was it someone?
There was a time I could write on bits of paper
and even walls.
My lines rhymed so fine and it was such fun!
There was a time. But now it takes me so long
to tie my shoelaces
and yet they come so very quickly undone…
There was a time but now I sit and watch
the sharp grains
Of sand in my hourglass – how quickly they run!
There was a time – but time that was does,
There is only that which is – all else is none!
But still, still and yet, there was a time,
there really was!
Yes! A time! Yes, and time to come!
[For those of you who may have interest in such, the meter of these couplets is iambic 7-5 or, a line of septameter followed by pentameter, or 5-2-5, or a sort of syncopated hexameter -- whatever, I think it passes well to the mood of this small piece ]