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The Creases of Time
July 14, 2019
Time, did it slip through my outstretched fingers, flow,
subtly as water? My little big brother,
Running across the pastures with his kite, where did that go?
Footsteps following mine, hands clasped tightly, my mother.
I can see the time pass in the creases of my
grandfather’s eyes. His skin lined with the trick of time, if only
It wouldn't go so fast, then we wouldn't need to say so many goodbyes.
All too soon, if only my world could live forever, we wouldn't be so lonely,
But, his eyes find mine and we smile, our fingers tracing the same
Photograph. We’ve had time, he whispers, we’ve had time. And his voice
And assurance is enough for me to believe.
© Angela K., Kansasville, WI
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I got the idea for this poem after I watched my grandparents aging. What at first seemed effortless and like second nature now became something to think about and try to do. My grandfather has a form of Parkinson's and he has to think about walking, because the signals between his brain and his muscles don't connect, so he has to strongly think about moving each part of his body. It's hard to watch, and it makes me sad, life moving so fast, and so quickly and when that happens, I put my thoughts on paper, and without really trying, the poem wrote itself from the thoughts in my head.