Travel Notes from My Berth.

Travel Notes From My Berth.

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Time is a madman

a starving leech 

sucking hours 

from your days and nights

draining your youth 

your adulthood 

your middle age

and your senior moments

Time tugs at your soul, 

like a thirsty toddler

 wanting more

pulling on your shirt. 

Always urging you 

forward to the 

next moment, 

lest the past 

catches up to you.

and the older you get

the faster time steals

what you have left

time is merciless

you can never go back

and your present 

as you read this

is already gone

just part of the past

your heart is just 

a stopwatch waiting 

for that final tick

and there is no 

where to run

and no winners 

at times's finish 

line for you

all you can try to do 

is slow down

and take it easy

and ignore time

but he always gets

the last laugh

so many folks 

that I knew

when I was a child

adults who influenced my life

are all gone

lost to time

removed under 

sterile conditions

boxed up and buried

and it seems like only

yesterday that they 

were still here

but it was decades ago

Time is the engineer 

of a massive train, 

holding billions of souls, 

and moving 

across the tracks

of what has already 

been laid out for them.

He must always be 

clearing the way 

for new souls to be 

linked to life's continuum

He is merciless 

in his endeavors,

we simply follow his lead,

longing for places 

that have slipped by,

wishing we could 

have stayed awhile longer

in what is rushing past us, 

ever rolling onward,

thus I end this poem,

while time allows even 

this period granted me.