Poem by Lily Swarn
What’s the Time?
It seems like sacrilege to even think like this
For hasn’t it been hammered into our minds that
Time is the greatest healer
Alas, Time and Tide wait for no one
See, how your words run ahead of you as you make inane conversation with me
Little do you know that I am trying to understand
the unsaid words in the tone,the inflection of your voice
I strain my ears and crane my brain to grasp
all that you are actually conveying even when you are not mouthing the words
Cryptic phrases running into each other
For you are racing Father Time
The working mother who barely makes it to the bus stop
The house maid who has to reach the next fuming memsahib
The hassled teen who has to beat Tina and Mina to reach the footballer hunk
The dad who must earn enough by month end
to send the son for cricket coaching
And I am fighting Time for I’ll be older much sooner than you
Yes , Time is evil
He listens to no prayers
He thinks he is the cat’s whiskers
He is a sprinter par excellence
His speciality is marathon racing
He things he is Adolf Hitler
He seems to have no heart
He has apparently never fallen in love
Copyright Lily Swarn 6.5.2020
