THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: The Imaginarium


A Flash Fiction poem, inspired by the word TIME.

Submitted: August 15, 2018

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Submitted: August 15, 2018

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THE CIRCLE OFLIFE

 

The outraged infant enters this world,

His tiny hand, round a finger curls.

Eyes wide with intrigue, swathed in a shawl,

The miracle of life, so perfect, so small.

 

In the blink of an eye, the baby has changed,

Into a tiny tyrant who must be obeyed.

At two years old, he has a will of iron,

With temper tantrums, he roars like a lion.

 

For the young, time stretches into infinity,

There for grasping every opportunity.

To live, to learn, to love and discover,

A world viewed in vibrant technicolour.

 

Adolescence tries parental patience,

How can they be so ungracious?

Indestructible they believe they are,

Parental warnings go largely ignored.

 

Pumped up with hormones in overdrive,

Take over their physicality… their minds.

Derision, anger, resentment and cheek

Expressed in arrogant, know-it-all speak.

 

The future for them is light years away,

“Old age is for the elderly,” they blithely say.

They know it all, yet have so much to learn,

To sever parental control, they do yearn.

 

When mortality suddenly dawns on them,

Sound advice, they no longer condemn.

Time to move on find partners in life,

Reproduction among them is rife.

 

Their babies grow, tables are turned,

The child they once were, has returned.

Sunlight catches silver streaks in their hair,

Lines begin to form, on a face once so fair.

 

Too soon they mourn the empty nest,

Their home is too quiet, they confess.

An awareness of the clock that ticks,

Their joints, they find, are becoming stiff.

 

Blood pressure raises its ugly head,

Cholesterol is a word they dread.

In family photos, missing faces

A jigsaw with some mislaid pieces.

 

Grandchildren arrive, a girl and boy,

Bringing with them so much joy.

They visit the care home… ‘Dad, it’s me,’

But there is no recognition… no memory.

 

Parents are memories, consigned to the past,

Their lives just a blink, gone so fast.

They remember with fondness their childhood years,

Their love and support, in times of fear.

 

But the circle of life continues unbroken,

New life replaces those who’ve been taken.

While we mourn those we have laid to rest,

New life sucks greedily at the breast.


© Copyright 2018 Sue Harris. All rights reserved.

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