Wednesday, March 25, 2015


How swift Time’s moment-must
Draws timid feet to dance
The courtship of its fickle dust
A strange, fleeting romance

How smooth morrow ensues
What soon is yesterday
Foolish, the dreamer that pursues
What tick-tock tugs away

How amateur we are
Even experience
Is but a wily harbinger
Of untried ‘whence-to-thence’

Thus, in this little place
Of live-laugh-love-and-learn
We should anoint this dust with grace
For there is no return

…to its brief Before Death
Then God’s eternity
Come darling, steal my very breath
Ere time steals it from me

© Janet Martin

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