A truth I've learned: poetry can say so much in a very few words.
When you’re born you don’t know its meaning
Demands are just sleep, food and cleaning
It passes so fast
Folks wish it would last
Too quickly you’ve blown past your weaning
At two you ask ‘bout it all day
It seems like its all you can say
When folks ask you why
You say, "Look at the sky!"
Then run back outside and go play
As a teen you have oh so much more
Its abundance you seem to ignore
Don’t put things away
In a rush all damn day
Your wake is a slamming front door
At twenty you chase a degree
At thirty you want PhD
Lamenting its shortage
Paying your mortgage
Is this all my life’s meant to be?
At fifty you’ve climbed the top tier
Its ending you now start to fear
Your sixties get done
You’re now eighty-one
Each moment so precious, so dear
You reach the front gate and meet Peter
You tell him that nothing’d be sweeter
"Your wish is not rare
Ask again up the stairs,
That’s above my pay grade here as greeter"
"No, child, this here's where you land,
Now that you well understand
The tocks are finite
As are days and are nights"
Then He offers to you His big hand
"Time is on My Side"
© 2020 greg cain