Time’s Lament

Time’s elegy reflecting,

Holds firm the memories slowly disappearing

As time’s longevity seems to bemoving backward.

The church door askew

Allows but a crack for the curious to peer in

Or for the fearful to peer out.

The hearse parked out front

Idles away its remaining drops of petrol

As its tires flatten oh so slowly.

The old woman hobbles at the crosswalk,

Holding tight the leash to her seeing-eye dog

Leading her back and forth across the walkway

As she incessantly shushes her four-legged companion

Who never makes a sound.

Across the street,

The neighborhood watch lady no one ever sees

Fingers the tattered window curtain,

Perhaps aware that a sudden move

Might cause the remaining threads to give up.

Amidst the cacophony of city noises,

A deaf boy on the roof

Conducts the clouds overhead,

Orchestrating the movement into imaginary sonance.

A feeble elderly man

Drags a ragged rope and wooden chair into the backyard

Looking as if he wants to hang himself from the overhead limb.

Instead, sits and continues braiding the strands of rope,

Humming to himself as he lets time tick backward

To his youthful togetherness,

His long-ago aliveness,

His willingness to lose track of time.

Such is the repine

For memories fading.