The Race We Call Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


A poem which takes you along the passage of time throughout the year.

Submitted: September 03, 2018

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Submitted: September 03, 2018

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The Race We Call Time

 

Time goes by so quickly. It gallops past ulike a racehorse, running to the finish line. Though if you sit back and observe, the process of time itself is quite beautiful.

 

We, spectators, look into our binoculars and see a misty track. The sky above us is as white as the snow fainting by our feet. Wind swirls around us like a crowd cheering on an impatient horse. If we look around we can see that all of us are wrapped up in large, fluffy coats and tight scarfs. We are kept safe in our cocoons, as opposed to being exposed to the cold, brisk air around us. As we speak, smoke puffs out of our chimneys, fueled with lots of wood and coal, so we are prepared for future races like this one.

 

As snow melts and the sun starts to rise, joy and love begin to flutter in the air like pretty butterflies. Clouds hover around one minute, and the next, the golden orb in the sky is shining all our worries away. Flowers are blooming and new beginnings thrive around us, we look around and see the world buzzing with life; we sweep the frostiness out of our houses, we spread adoration and happiness through bunnies and eggs- we start again new, forgiving each other for our trespasses and those who trespassed against us. The tips of our fingers are still a little icy as we tighten the grip on our binoculars.

 

Once the cold has been fully chased away, a warm breeze dances its way into our lives, caressing our skin and gently brushing our hair. When the sun has risen to its full peak, our skin is bathed by hot rays which beam through the clear blue. We gleam and glow in the heavenly light from above, sparkling with excitement and temptation. But the tale doesn’t stop in the light of the day, no. In fact, the story gets better when the night has fallen! The party never, ever stops. Our souls are shining just as bright as the moonlight which illuminates the deep, dotted sky. We laugh to our hearts content but sometimes, just sometimes, we cry. Sometimes of joy and thrill, sometimes because of the parting of our friends and family.

 

Soon, green leafs which rested peacefully on their branches, now find themselves looking orange and brown on the damp gravel. The goose bumps begin to surface from under our skin as the colours which we wear change to burgundy, mustard and camel beige. Boots embrace our feet like seductive mistresses whilst we strut, strut down the foggy catwalk. Smoke fills the air as bonfires explode in our back yards and parks in nearby areas. Fear begins to creep into our lives as the night of the 31st gets closer, and closer. We get ready for the fancy dress, bloody mess and crazy hair because we are in for an All Hollow’s Eve scare. But there’s no need for us to become anxious, because as soon as the hollow pumpkins disappear, our lives return to a steady pace. Work begins once again, schools open, once again. All the normality in our days has been restored, as the atmosphere becomes calm once again.

 

So, as the horse is inches away from the finish line, we jump into the air and dive into each other’s arms. Fireworks shoot into the sky like missiles, booming into spirals and hearts. We sing and dance for Auld Lang Syne, and talk about the good old times. As we watch with tears in our eyes, for we know that time, has raced by yet again.


© Copyright 2018 Taru Enki. All rights reserved.

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