I pass the days in haste,
looking forward to coming things.
Weekends seem far away until Wednesday
and then I quickly slide down the hump
and Mondays back again.

Holidays seem distant
and when they arrive, they fly
quickly to the next old day, blase.

I'm always yearning for another day,
a future day,
a later date.

In my blind advance
I see not the beauty of today.
Children's songs and tiny things
I'd like to recall
when I'm eighty...
and yearning for a past day,
a previous date.

Oh, that I would stop and notice
that these days are worthy too
of wonder and delight.

My eyes will open one morning on that far off day,
that last, dreaded day,
and I will wonder where the time has gone,
time I have wished away.

12/12/2006

Author's Note:

Posted on 12/12/2006
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