Another off-prompt day. So much in this fevered mind demands attention.
FIELDS OF TIME
by Mike Patrick
In vain, through bordered fields of time,
I search for youth that once was mine,
but time is but a looking-glass,
with nothing solid one can grasp.
Those youthful years have slipped away
with childhood’s games and rowdy play.
Inclement days, which now remain,
are gray and sad and all the same.
If only I had spent each day
with knowledge that they’d fade away,
more life from each I could have wrung
before in time they each were flung.
The looking-glass and photographs,
reminders of life’s overdrafts,
are all that time has left behind:
refreshments for this failing mind.