The Passage of Time

I see a little kid. She's on a bicycle,
She might be four, proceeding most
Unsteadily, a look of concentration
On her pie-plate face. A few steps
Back, her mother looms, a mixture
Of amusement and concern upon her
Face. She's wearing shades. The sun
Is bright, and my life, taking place
Across a hedge, in shade, upon a chair,
Obtains release through such a sight
From fear of my defibrillator, loathing
Of the status quo, the dully gnawing
Knowledge that the substance of
Existence has diminished here across
The hedge since those days when
I taught my own kids how to ride
Their bikes.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 95 times
Written on 2017-05-13 at 15:18

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