We do not realise the speed of time.

It passes between fingers like sand

trickling almost unnoticably away.

Some of it settles where we stand

but quite a bit is blown far away

carrying memories along with it.

In my head I am of indeterminate age

and I have the audacity to refer

to others as being elderly, as if

I myself am but a ripe youngster -

except when I look in the mirror

and then it is all brought back

with every line and wrinkle new,

with every podgy bit of fat,

that I am truly not 'all that'.

Rather, I am myself quite aged

and I do not appreciate the view.


© griffonner 2023