It is too late to live out every dream;
I must prioritise.
I can’t blame the Seasons,
since each one carried its weight.
Once, honeyed hedgerows towered above my head,
while life stretched to eternity.
Brown limbed child’s play climbed and skipped
toward exhaustion’s sleepy contemplation,
and mother’s lap was always warm for love.
I recall the rumbling storm that hailed the wane of spring,
and now I know the lessons nature tried to teach me.
I was up a tree,
and I could say the leaves concealed the text,
but it would not be true;
it was I who tried to hide from view.
Summer brought a raging blaze of opportunities,
and though I knew that I should choose a highway,
in my greed for life I tried to run a mile down every lane.
Some were dark, some were bright,
and some shone with a dappled light,
so I absorbed a quarter of each shade;
a whirling dervish fighting time as if I were three people,
always working, skipping sleep,
rising tired to keep the furnace burning,
trying to learn each skill within the world,
for fear of dying incomplete.
But Autumn came with whipping winds and ticking clock
to warn me of approaching loss.
It froze my bones and slowed my pace,
and now I amble through the days wishing I were stronger.
A foolish thought runs through my brain:
“If only I’d retained my speed I’d live a great deal longer.”
The Daily Post #Amble
©Jane Paterson Basil