Prologue: Sometimes, when looking at the clock, I wonder how the numbers 1 thru 12 can be hours, and when I again look upon those same numbers they have suddenly become multiple years. How strange, it seems that a whole life passes by, one hour at a time.

Fragments of Time

In dreamlike glimpses, I view the magic glass
From within this cocoon of woven silk mesh
And glistening confetti that sparkles and shines
To seduce the taste of a visionary’s mind.
I espy sweet delicacies now lost in the race
Sneak previews I see of another day and face
One that was smooth, untouched by the years
One whose innocence showed no fears
Courageous it was as it smiled back at me
Unspoiled, undaunted by puzzling mysteries.
Just as quickly as that face of the past I beheld
Another face of the present appeared, with its own story to tell.
I could see the visions of the ravages of time
The weathering of many storms showed in each line.
Hopes lain aside for necessities’ hard truths
Replaced by plans and schemes to survive in a world so cruel.
Beautiful dreams that lied and deceived, once came
To kiss that cheek, but could not be tamed.
They burned in a fire blazing with promise
Now left cold and ashen in the hearth of forgotten.
The face looks so tired and so worn that my heart cries,
To see such despondency, without struggle or fight
I turned to run from the vision’s exhaustive depth
When realization asked, “Who can run from one’s self?”

Leah ©