Cona Adams Poet Free verse

Time Soldiers On

Irregardless of effort 
or desire,
we can't stop time.

Weeks fall into months,
seasons stream past 
like runaway trains,
stamping birthdays on calendars,
etching wrinkles on skin,
planting age spots everywhere.

The galloping gobbler
moves ever onward,
with sharpened blade, 
to slice away memories, 
and bestow;

weaker eyesight,
diminishing strength,
brain skips,
plus popping  joints.

Alas, twilight stops soon for thee,
Twilight stops, now, for me.


cfa ? 9/2/2012
Revised 4/20/2014

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Carole Duet August 15, 2016 at 9:27 PM Hi! Great poem. Great description. And so true. Cona Adams August 16, 2016 at 8:03 AM Thank you so much Carole, for the visit. Always a pleasure to connect with a fellow souper. Have a great week!

Cona Adams December 11, 2014 at 2:09 PM LOL. I certainly hope so. But that "old dog" fits to a T.

John Fleming December 11, 2014 at 1:14 PM I have a strong, sneaking suspicion that there is: "Life in the old dog" yet. Madam! My very best regards.....john :)