Time's Weavings, As I Brood Upon Them

Time's Weavings, As I Brood Upon Them Shut inside windows open W I D E I age 1,000 years To your one. The Past turns in tight circles upon the Present, Inscribing itself into memories That will lend their textures to the future, Pains and pleasures, Loves and losses, The bitter and the sweet - All will fall together and become tomorrow, Then break apart and cycle on again. Outdoors, beyond a window full of November's clouds A child is running gaily past, While up the street, with ancient, measured tread, A crone approaches; Youth and age will meet and cycle 'round again. I turn grey thoughts over in my mind, Composing poems as my Significant Others Drift in and out of the rooms of my life, Now babe, Now child, Now youth, Now adult Now gone. Friends and lovers help weave the warp together, Light and shadow chase one another through the rooms, Whispering the secrets of change.