Deb Blair is a third grade teacher who has been writing poems since she was a child. I think many of us discovered a love of writing when we were young enough to not question whether our feelings or opinions mattered to anyone, or even if anyone would read what we wrote. Children don’t think that way. Children express and communicate at will, and unselfconsciously.
Deb’s poem is, in general terms, a wish to hold onto that, via a lament for the passage of time. Here it is:
Time is liquid-like
My thirst unquenchable,
I stoop to cup my hands in its shimmery seconds,
And drink in deeply.
There is no satisfaction.
Solemn, mirrored reflections of time past
Seem cruelly distorted by ripples of the present.
Pulsating currents pull onward,
Rolling into nowhere,
Gone within a glance.
Slippery, silver drops escape my grasp.
There is no holding onto minutes that flow by.
Sadly, unlike water,
Time cannot be frozen.
I really like the time-as-water metaphor here, because even water is more tangible than time, but still impossible to hold in our hands.
Thanks for sharing, Deb!