Poetry Sunday ... Today, on Monday!

Yesterday, of course, was Sunday, which is usually Poetry Sunday. But because it was also Fathers' Day, I moved your poetry fix to Monday for this week. Mike is probably confused, but I'm sure the rest of you will deal with it just fine.

My mother used to tell me that there was never enough time for everything, but that - nevertheless - it was all the time there is. Here's another take on the passage of time ...

Time Enough

by Dennis O'Driscoll

The tally of years
added up so rapidly
it appeared I had
been short-changed,
tricked by sleight
of hand, fallen victim
to false bookkeeping.

Yet when I checked
my records, each
and every year had
been accounted for,
down to the last day,
and could be audited
against old diary entries
(client briefings,
dental check-ups,
parent-teacher meetings,
wedding anniversaries),
verified with credit
card statements
(multi-trip insurance,
antibiotics, concert bookings,
mobile top-ups).

And, although
nagging doubts
remained—an
inkling that I had
been ripped off
in some way,
given short shrift,
made to live at an
accelerated pace,
rushed through
my routines with
unseemly haste—
nothing could be proved,
no hard and fast
statistics adduced.

I had, it seems,
unknown to me,
been living my
life to the full.


Have a good day. And have a good time ... after all, it's all the time there is.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo