Tick tock...tick tock... Life is counting down on your internal clock. Memories that feel as if they occurred yesterday turn to flashes of moments that seem to fade away. People you once knew walk by without a clue. The times you once shared exist as if you were never there. Years fly...friends die... and you never know when you'll say your last goodbye. Oh, how I wish I could turn back time, spend it with loved ones and cherish what once was mine. Or to go back even more, being a kid in a candy store. How I miss the way I used to feel on Christmas day when Santa was real. But back to reality...back to today, family is scarce and memories continue to fade away. Tick tock...tick tock... How I wish I could control this clock.
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm Across green fields and yellow hills of hay The little twittering birds laugh in his way And poise triumphant on his shining arm. He bears a sword of flame but not to harm The wakened life that feels his quickening sway And barnyard voices shrilling ‘It is day!’ Take by his grace a new and alien charm. But in the city, like a wounded thing That limps to cover from the angry chase, He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing, And wanly mock his young and shameful face; And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring In many a high and dreary sleeping place.
I had not known before Forever was so long a word. The slow stroke of the clock of time I had not heard. ‘Tis hard to learn so late; It seems no sad heart really learns, But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears, And bleeds and burns. The night is not all dark, Nor is the day all it seems, But each may bring me this relief— My dreams and dreams. I had not known before That Never was so sad a word, So wrap me in forgetfulness— I have not heard.
Lament who will, in fruitless tears, The speed with which our moments fly; I sigh not over vanished years, But watch the years that hasten by. Look, how they come,--a mingled crowd Of bright and dark, but rapid days; Beneath them, like a summer cloud, The wide world changes as I gaze. What! grieve that time has brought so soon The sober age of manhood on! As idly might I weep, at noon, To see the blush of morning gone. Could I give up the hopes that glow In prospect like Elysian isles; And let the cheerful future go, With all her promises and smiles? The future!--cruel were the power Whose doom would tear thee from my heart. Thou sweetener of the present hour! We cannot--no--we will not part. Oh, leave me, still, the rapid flight That makes the changing seasons gay, The grateful speed that brings the night, The swift and glad return of day; The months that touch, with added grace, This little prattler at my knee, In whose arch eye and speaking face New meaning every hour I see; The years, that o'er each sister land Shall lift the country of my birth, And nurse her strength, till she shall stand The pride and pattern of the earth: Till younger commonwealths, for aid, Shall cling about her ample robe, And from her frown shall shrink afraid The crowned oppressors of the globe. True--time will seam and blanch my brow-- Well--I shall sit with aged men, And my good glass will tell me how A grizzly beard becomes me then. And then should no dishonour lie Upon my head, when I am gray, Love yet shall watch my fading eye, And smooth the path of my decay. Then haste thee, Time--'tis kindness all That speeds thy winged feet so fast: Thy pleasures stay not till they pall, And all thy pains are quickly past. Thou fliest and bear'st away our woes, And as thy shadowy train depart, The memory of sorrow grows A lighter burden on the heart.
Gabriel Ankar