Time

I was a busy fellow for four decades. An astonishing amount done and a pace I hope never to see again.

                            Time

              I have rushed a poem,
             jitterbugged to a waltz.
               I have slit the throat
                  of a perfect trout
                    but left it to rot.
            Time got away from me.

         Even with a common clock
     you cannot rush the ticking tock
       and yet I do each harried day,
  I dash and I run to the frenzied fray.
 The earth spins on beneath my feet,
          in such haste am I to meet
      my road’s end, my life’s defeat?

         Hurry, hurry, hurrah, hooray.
               Watch me lay waste 
            to another precious day.
    I press on and on, and on and on.
           Such tempo, such speed,
on dasher, on dancer, andante, allegro.

                  My mind’s awhirl
             in this space age atwirl,
            But a pre historical heart
            in my body was built
                  and it must sleep
                 whatever this guilt
           that drives me unceased.

               My mind is unmade,
           when was my last prayer?
          Have I too little, too much?
       Can I slow down earth's spin?  
Can I pack more into my strutting hour?
  Can I have two lives, can I have three?
 
               Too busy for sunset,
               too sleepy for dawn,
              the end will still come
           with a great gaping yawn.
 Time is a most precious commodity.
                 It can slip from you
            as it has gone from me.

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