Money’s dollar, euro, yen;
mere symbols of value,
until bartered away.

Minutes, days, months, years;
again — symbols only,
until time is bartered away.

Time can be ruthless in its march.
Child’s endless days
May move at slothful pace.

Youth’s mindless scurry
for imagined privileges
of far off adulthood.

Midlife’s goals loom like buzzards aloft
over imposed transient targets
as minutes careen wildly past.

The turning page records
pursuit of purpose across time to
declining years, hell-bent to completion
or an idyllic revel in inertia?

Gus daum


About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Reflections and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to SYMBOLS

  1. Man, where do you get these words, better yet – insights from? Amazing.


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