Ol’Father time

A poem about being acutely aware of time, all the moments passing

It’s a rhythm, a beat, a subtle intrusion,
It’s permanent, present and an illusion.

Whether silent or shouting, time speaks in my tongue,
If you’re watching or not it’s a siren’s song,
That calls and calls in cascaded clicks,
With dulcet tones if the hour permits.

Hypnotically absent, but every where in your mind
Unavoidable awareness of each moment in time.

The hands spin round drawing in my thoughts,
I feel him near, in this space of mine
Turning in my mind with barely a pause,
I can hear him always, Ol’father time.

It is constant, continuous, a ever-present being,
But it’s unreliable, it skews and distorts what we’re seeing,
Looking at the past; feels like yesterday and forever,
I’m still in control but I know time will endeavour
To take life away in inconsistent bites,
Fooling me with memories, try as I might,
Living with my patterns, knowing the units that I need;
Keeping an eye on Ol’father time, when he doesn’t think I see.

The hours go on absorbing all they touch,
Effervescent, in their prime;
Escaping, dissolving, losing so much,
I can hear him always, Ol’father time.

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