About Time


Today’s post  continues on with the same theme as yesterday’s post  The Bologna And Beer Method of Self Evaluation. It is about “time”. The fact that yesterday’s post was extremely long, and today’s extremely short is an indication that I am not totally in control of how I allot time to the various tasks that I set for myself, as my goal is to keep my posts to a certain length.On second thought, wouldn’t that be a little like an artist only painting on canvases that would fit into the back seat of a Volkswagen Beetle ? Maybe sometimes she might need a city bus to hold her work.See how I surreptitiously inferred that I was an artist? I didn’t say a good artist, but I think I’ve got a rather extensive  subject palette to work with: midwinter blues, green with envy moments, black humor, golden years and so on, and so I don’t see any reason why something I write can’t be a work of art with mass appeal sometime. Of course I have to accept the fact that it generally only happens after artists are long dead. Oh well! I’m a patient woman.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I now present to you a new piece related to time! Drum- roll please!

Time doesn’t pass without causing a change;

It may disassemble; it may rearrange.

With each passing year, there’s another effect;

It’s simply a fact that we’ve come to expect.

Even a Cadillac  goes out of style,

And rusts at the seams with each passing mile.

Our watches stop ticking or start running late;

Our very best outfit soon looks out of date.

Beds will get lumpy and start popping springs;

Pianos need tuning and pearls break their springs.

Even our houses are far from exempt

As each passing year makes them look more unkempt,

With windows that jam and stairways that creak,

As paint starts to peel and roofs start to leak.

But still there are some things improving with age—

The works of an artist, the quotes of a sage,

And one other thing that gets better each year,

The love that I share with the ones I hold dear.

There now, I think that one is small enough to carry home in your bicycle basket if you want to!

About Yvonne's Musings

Being the second of eight kids born in 11 years to my busy parents ultimately was a real advantage to me. I learned very early that if you wanted to be heard amidst all the noise the best way to accomplish it was to write your thoughts down. My first post to my mother," i hate skool. i cried at skool tooday!" was stuck with ABC chewing gum to the lid of the diaper pail, where I was certain that she would find it. Her attention quickly elicited in me a love of writing that has been life long. Seeking a wider audience I have decided to now, decades later, blog. Happy reading Mom! This is for you!

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