march

He walks in time on withered legs

The weight of life and death upon his back

And around his neck a pendulum hangs 

Swaying to his beat 

 

He sows, he scythes gives love and grief 

The steady pace of time 

And lives he reaps to history’s keep; 

Succumb to the march of time

◄ child like

It and I ►

Comments

DESMOND CHILDS

Wed 20th Feb 2019 21:14

Thanks for the comment Keith very much appreciated.

All the best Des

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keith jeffries

Wed 20th Feb 2019 08:26

Desmond,

As soon as I started to read this poem a mental image appeared in my mind, one which I think is familiar to most people. I enjoyed this appropriate description.

Thank you for this

Keith

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