The year of July.
Everything condensed into a few moments.
The Summer air momentarily chilled,
Then warming before you have time to blink.
Careful, for time passes on its own terms.
The month of 2000-something.
Everything expanded into a few centuries.
The Winter never ends.
Do you remember Summer blinking its sad eyes?
Careful, for time passes on its own terms.
There’s so much I don’t know.
Every second has a meaning, a purpose.
Every person has something to give, and something to take.
But please be careful.
Time always passes, it always will.
There are none who can control it.
In a list
Comments
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I like the way you outlined the richness of every moment:
"Everything condensed into a few moments." by slowing down the time:"The year of July.". The idea of time's irreversible passing has been on my mind for the whole day, thanks to your poem I can feel it flow slowly through every cell of my body, I can enjoy it remembering "Summer blinking its sad eyes".
PS Your dominant figure of speech - repetition creates the effect of a clock counting down the seconds and reinforcing everyone of them.
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