Crinkled skin and cracked lips
Carved the face of a patient man.
A worn cardboard sign, hung around his travelled neck,
It read:
Time has passed me by and I have passed by it.
You could watch him for an hour
And while he seems painted by the past
The world walks by, falling, flowing and tumbling on:
Ready for the future, eager to move on.
He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.
His senses are keen and have seen a hundred years
In the time it takes to smile.
But the time has come for him to walk;
The world is a changing place.
He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.
But there is no time, no more.
Filed under: poems
