Nine-thirty now
In the segments of my life,
in the younger years,
in my younger years
time did not move.
Days were never ending;
one following the last
with a full twenty-four hour count
each hour a full sixty minute count.
In my younger years
time never moved;
time taking a life-time
till old enough for dad
to allow me into auto
to explain
the clutch,
the accelerator and
the break peddle;
to explaining the mergence
of shifting gears
with the play upon the clutch.
Time took three lifetimes
to come to age sixteen.
From sixteen to twenty;
the good years,
the years of high school
of girlfriends
of part-time work
to pay for the girlfriends,
of part-time work
to pay for the girlfriends,
to pay for a ‘47
De Soto with Power Glide.
Responsible but for myself,
time now began to move faster.
The years of family,
the years of my family,
of my wife,
of my beautiful,
then young wife
and of my children.
These years,
the years of family
sped by,
sped by so quickly
as my children
went from child
to adult.
The years of family
sped by,
sped by so quickly
as my children
went from dependent
to independent,
to now,
within their own lives,
to now as my children
became familiar strangers.
Now older,
and older yet
as now time flies.
Time now flies as
day merges into night,
as night merges into day.
Time now flies so quickly
that if today
were Christmas
tomorrow then is
the Fourth of July.
Time now flies so quickly
that If this day is the Fourth of July,
tomorrow then is Christmas
and between,
the time between:
the days,
the weeks,
the months
between are a blur.
Waking at five-thirty,
into bed at nine-thirty,
mornings come and
night go and
the seconds,
the minutes,
the hours between
are a blur.
Nine-thirty now,
feeling tired now,
time for bed now.
Goodnight.
©November 1, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman
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