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Time Passes

‘Time passes,’ said the man at our table.

‘People want something new.’ I guess he’s right.

It's the prevailing theory round here.

‘The same old faces,’ opined another;

‘You know, Zelensky. Always wants money.’

And ‘here’ is anywhere, maybe everywhere.

Time passes. All of us know that feeling:

You turn a new page in a calendar

Or put away Christmas decorations.

At cricket in April, you look around,

And some of the old regulars are gone.

Generations and chapters soon rush by.

War, for all its swagger, is no different:

You fight foes; you fight time. But time passes.


◄ Too Late?

Two Years On ►


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Stephen Gospage

Sun 18th Feb 2024 08:40

Thank you, Graham and Keith. The passing of time is one thing which is inevitable. We can't hold it back. In the end, it is the enemy which will defeat us all.

And thanks to Nigel, Stephen A, Holden, Steve, Manish, K Lynn, Rob and Hélène for liking this.

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keith jeffries

Fri 16th Feb 2024 23:07

@Tempus Fugit'. The queue is added to by the day and reduced at eventide. Your poem endorses the fact that I am now well and truly in God's waiting room. A poem which highlights the calendar of life.
Thank you for this,

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Graham Sherwood

Fri 16th Feb 2024 18:47

The queue certainly gets shorter as time passes Stephen. We shuffle nearer and nearer the front. The trick is to offer your place to others if you can.

Thoughtful work as always


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