View From My Window
Advice For the Hurried Life
The woman walks up and down the garden,
looking this way and that, a cup of tea in hand.
I ask her what kind of tea she is drinking;
she tells me its rosemary, or maybe mint, she has
not taken a sip of it yet. She looks hurried, as if the
day has been going by too fast for her.
I tell her, I know what you mean; the years, they fly
by so fast I cannot tell one day from the next,
or even one minute from the next. But you know,
it is ending soon, we ought to cherish it. She smiles,
and nods her head, but I know she is not listening;
her mind is somewhere else.
looking this way and that, a cup of tea in hand.
I ask her what kind of tea she is drinking;
she tells me its rosemary, or maybe mint, she has
not taken a sip of it yet. She looks hurried, as if the
day has been going by too fast for her.
I tell her, I know what you mean; the years, they fly
by so fast I cannot tell one day from the next,
or even one minute from the next. But you know,
it is ending soon, we ought to cherish it. She smiles,
and nods her head, but I know she is not listening;
her mind is somewhere else.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Advice For the Hurried Life
Advice For the Hurried Life
