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Too Late
by Clara Mae GregoryTime is quantitative,
relative to one's own perception.
Sometimes it even seems
to standstill, quiet in its corner,
a moment given over to thought.
But for those moving too fast,
time is lost and never sought.
What was there will always be gone,
irretrievably replaced
by new reality already slipping away,
unable to stand long on the whims of today.
And forever will always be too late.
04/14/2009 Posted on 04/14/2009
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 04/14/09 at 02:15 PM ...well said Clara, you peg a slippery subject--time. we can enjoy it, lose it, can take it but never re-invent it...once here, then gone... |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 04/14/09 at 07:00 PM Very thoughtful write lady. Well done. I used to tell my kids that if they were "bored" it was because they were not "in the moment". But when you are time flies so fast you lose track of it. Tough choice. |
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