The World is a Changing Place

Crinkled skin and cracked lips

Carved the face of a patient man.

A worn cardboard sign, hung around his travelled neck,

It read:

Time has passed me by and I have passed by it.

 

You could watch him for an hour

And while he seemsĀ painted by the past

The world walks by, falling, flowing and tumbling on:

Ready for the future, eager to move on.

 

He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.

His senses are keen and haveĀ seen a hundred years

In the time it takes to smile.

 

But the time has come for him to walk;

The world is a changing place.

He breathes, he sighs, he smells, he sees.

But there is no time, no more.

 

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Perspective

It is strange
How with so few
Different variations,
The whole Earth
Can shift around
And face you from
Yet one more direction.

As, when the sun is on your skin
You remember the cold as only thought
As if it had never really happened in any reality
But your own.

I have taken the same walk
– Step for step –
Three months apart,
And the only similarity was me.
And even I was only just.

It is a journey we are on; these lives of ours,
Each step along the paved and wild ways
Are more than enough proof
For any man, woman
Or child (who is older than their years).