In the twilight of a fading day, memories merge with the sun’s last ray, and time spins on the spring of an old man’s watch, echoing the past with each tick and tock. Chiming the hour as he walks the street, silence surrounds him, profound and sweet. Each house stands still, a witness to time. Each brick, each window, a rhythm, a rhyme. He wonders if the chime is meant for him or is just another of time’s many whims. With each step forward the past seems to retreat, yet in every chime past and present meet. Time has moved through the minutes, and the hours, and the years, and through it all he’s lived his loves, his losses and cried all his tears. As night pulls the fading light closer to it, the old man ponders the infinite and wonders where it is he will finally stand between the hour and the minute hand.
I feel this poem, the walk, the rhythm and rhyme of the houses he passes, each object just so. Time is a thing that mystifies all of us, I think. Is it real, an illusion? Science can't tell us. The infinite, I think, is a better fit.
Thank you for your comment, Deborah. I think what is mystifying about time is that we seem to live in it, like fish in water, but it’s a something we all experience differently.
I pictured you on your morning walk, embracing your thoughts, fears, acceptance, of your impending mortality on this, your birthday. As many of us realize we have less years ahead of us then what is behind us now, we contemplate our gratefulness through good and bad, and hope we have lived a life doing the best we could and as we age remain relevant. Happy Birthday Paul! Your poems are just one of the talents that keeps you relevant and relatable to so many others. Loved this one.
I feel this poem, the walk, the rhythm and rhyme of the houses he passes, each object just so. Time is a thing that mystifies all of us, I think. Is it real, an illusion? Science can't tell us. The infinite, I think, is a better fit.
Thank you for your comment, Deborah. I think what is mystifying about time is that we seem to live in it, like fish in water, but it’s a something we all experience differently.
This so great. I am not great literary terms but this piece lies on the border between poetry and prose giving you the best of both worlds.
Thanks, Stan
Boy can I relate to this one Paul[ nice work!
Thank you, David!
Oh my. Your poem profoundly captures time and memory, weaving them into a tender narrative. It's a hauntingly beautiful reflection that speaks to me.
I’m so happy this resonated with you, Gloria. Thank you for your comment.
Time, that old and infinite tyranny!
I pictured you on your morning walk, embracing your thoughts, fears, acceptance, of your impending mortality on this, your birthday. As many of us realize we have less years ahead of us then what is behind us now, we contemplate our gratefulness through good and bad, and hope we have lived a life doing the best we could and as we age remain relevant. Happy Birthday Paul! Your poems are just one of the talents that keeps you relevant and relatable to so many others. Loved this one.
Thank you, Sharon, for such a thoughtful comment. Things are returning to normal and we’ll move on.
I could feel the echo of that chime on the silent street
Good to hear from you, felice, and Thank you for your comment
Beautiful. The second hand functionally is connected to the actual operability of the watch; if it won't spin the watch is dead.
Keep writing; really good stuff!
Thank you, Leomhann
We are all slaves to time. We complain that there's never enough of it and yet, we waste so much of it, Paul.
Wonderful. It evokes questions within me of how the old man is feeling. It could be so many things..
Thank you for the comment, Teyani, and for the support—I’m grateful
A welcoming and inviting poem Sir Paul, moving through space awareing in the moment pouring forth the power of conscious. A poem that counsels! G
Thank you, Geraldine
The imagery you used with the watch helps tell the whole story. Beautifully executed. Thanks, Paul.
Thank you, Monia
That moment never tells us when it will arrive, but we still wonder. Perhaps only when we stop, we’ll meet it.
We’ll meet it and know that it’s been with us all along. Thank you, Patris, for your support!
Oh wow, I LOVE this one, Paul. I’m speechless.
Thank you, Mike—I can’t picture you without words!
I fully identify with what one, Paul.
Thank you, Charles!
Beautiful ❤️
Thank you, java!