Of Ruthless Realization

 Jim turned 50 yesterday! How often have we asked 'where does time go?'

Time will come…but to pass

And seal within its flow

Those things we cradled in our clasp

Before the letting go

Those things we vowed to keep

With resolute intent

Are stolen where Time’s moments weep

And ever circumvent

We cannot conquer years

This firm and forward flow

Consumes in obscure tick-tock spheres

The ever-present Now

And soon the filament

Of youth’s fanciful gown

Must fall beneath the averment

Of Time’s insistent crown

So, though we plead and groan

With earnest stubbornness

Time claims without apology

What we cannot possess

© Janet Martin