In the sweep of the second hand
Across the face of the clock,
In the unobstrusive click of the pulsing
Of the quartz crystals
Or the electronic pulse
Of my digital watch.
The petals on the lilies
That I brought home
Detach themselves gently, and fall.
The buds slowly open, holding the promise
Of beauty that the fading flowers have passed.
Tomorrow, I'll be gone from here.
But the heady aroma of the lilies
And tomorrow's buds
Will remain, and be a reminder
Of my presence in this house.
The present inexorably slips into the past.
The future slips into being,
Becoming now, instead of later.
The enjoyment of the lovely scent of the lilies
Now...now..and storing it away in my memory
Is my way of conquering Time...
Tomorrow I will see the lilies in my mind's eye.
Today, my senses take it all in.
Tomorrow, in my mind and heart,
I'll open these memories,
And relive them again.
I bathe myself in the running river of Time...
Each moment a fleeting caress:
Building memories, some remembered, some not.
Since I started writing this,
A few more petals have fallen....