Ribbon of My Years
| Some days ... all I want ... or long to do? |
| Hide away, meditate, reveling in quiet solitude |
| Pen shaping words, or notes ... breathed gently |
| Stirring sweetly , taking form within my |
| Soul's waiting chamber. |
| Yet, this Alien, |
| This resident invader ... this Monarch of "Success" |
| Punches me! Up and out! |
| To march to her drum beat! |
| Days filled with duties ... |
| Performed by rote, staining at the harness; |
| All the while a river of silent current calls ... |
| Constantly whispering ... ebbing neathe the day. |
| To realize a week has gone by ... |
| Fearfully startled for a blank moment; |
| Straining to recall one golden hour of joy. |
| Seven days ... sadly swallowed in a vacum. |
| I count my hours |
| Like dollars earned ... then squandered |
| With frantic sadness ... realizing |
| The purse I carry is growing lighter |
| And, I'm too fearful to count |
| The remainder of my sum. |
| Each frantic day ... pulses with Duty's cadence, |
| Welding her relentless shear ... |
| Ever slashing , ever snipping |
| Cutting short ... |
| The Ribbon of my years. |
Dallas Beth Williams Gibson