Time, My Thief
"Time is the thief you cannot banish."
Phyllis McGinley, Writer, 1905 - 1978
The end of my time will come in winter.
Or so I’ve been told.
The wind blows and rattles
the loose louvers of my windows.
Occasional thunder rumbles,
and rain floods my garden.
How quiet is the house today,
despite the crackles of burning wood.
I remember the past which exists no more.
The present is now solitude.
All is deadly silence,
a moment of peace.
So I sit alone and ponder.
Like a clock, life is ticking
towards my destiny.
I know too well about life.
It is not the here that is important,
but the eternal after.
And I am prepared for the journey.
Let winter do its infinite worst.
I fear it not.
10 November 2020
Placed 1
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Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2020
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