An hour spent walking through fields and woods
Is the same as an hour spent indoors,
And a day spent relaxing in front of the fire
Is no less than a day spent on wet, windy moors.
A year can’t pass slowly any more than pass fast,
And time doesn’t speed up every year.
He grows no more distant with each passing day,
But with those same days he grows no more near.
With age time seems to speed up your life,
Or grow weary and slow it right down,
But in truth it is death that approaches your door
Clad in his lifeless black gown.
When you feel that a year has passed in a month
Or you lose track of last week and last year,
Remember that time is never the foe –
It is death that begins to draw near.
Author notes
Oh God ! please spare little time for me...Unknown
Quite loosely based on the prompt, but also based on one of Shakespeare's favourite ideas of time + death being the same but not the same (sort of thing!)
Not sure about the opening
Constructive criticism appreciated!
A contest entry
- please spare little time... by PrabhuDayal Khattar.
400 points, ended December 6, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Humm..I like the theme itself irrespective of its relevance for the prompt given in the contest..thanks for sharing..
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