FATHER TIME (ON THE LANDING)

 FATHER TIME (ON THE LANDING)

I am Father Time, a construct by design 

I am standing on the landing 

Of the staircase in your mind    

And I see you.

You who sleep beside neon digital clocks,

Worried about the markets and the state of your stocks   

You who toil in a day that never ends,

Getting in your steps and deep knee bends,

Praying for more of the glorious me,

To spend with close friends and family.

I am Father Time, a construct by design,

I am standing on the landing

Of the staircase in your mind

And I hear you.

You who dream of timeless summer flings,

Running through the sand with a lover hand in hand,

Running brave and free so far away from me.

But then reality rains down

So many distractions and demons surround.

Days of duress, wrongs to redress,

So many sins of omission and commission to confess.

You take a trip, you break a hip,

You prance and dance upon the stage,

 For awhile you are a darling and all the rage,

Until I come on my bicycle with my famous cloak and sickle,

Laughing as you lose your footing and your sea legs,

Knocking you  down a couple of pegs.

Snickering at your cluelessness, I ruthlessly plow on,

An hourglass image mowed upon your lawn.

You can run but you can never hide.

All appeals have been denied.

I am Father Time,

A construct by design,

I am standing on the landing 

Of the staircase in your mind,

And I ignore you.

You need to learn to manage me.

Only then can I set you free.

To argue with me is pointless.

Your pleas are moot, they do not compute,

They splinter off and atrophy,

In the end they are just lost on me.

For I am Father Time, I am relentless

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED