Flown Time
I didn't notice as I went.
I wasn't keeping score.
Each new day in its sameness was
just like the one before.
I thought there would be many more
tomorrows in my glass.
Using it improvidently,
I idly let time pass.
The mirror now reveals to me
how older I have grown.
I'd like to have them back again,
those days I used to own.
Now that future days are fewer,
I try to crowd each one;
on this day a trace of kindness
and here a bit of fun.
Storing memories while I can
as each day passes on,
will be the way to keep them,
when most of them are gone.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2020
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