Time Time
Time's a funny thing.
A purveyor of chances and second chances,
slipstreams sliding one past the other, gliding side by side,
glancing, intersecting,
a possible interference of ripples.

A moment sooner, a moment later
(and how long's a moment, anyway?),
what changes of fortune might occur,
or have occurred,
to change the past, to change the future?

When we met,
and when we met again,
and all the times we didn't meet,
how do (or did) those shape our future,
set into motion emotions, triumphs, failures?
A chance word,
a chance glance,
the accidental touch of skin on flesh,
how does each cause, effect, engender?

There can be regrets – there are always regrets –
but had time shifted differently,
would regrets have been deposed by joys
or shaded irrevocably into griefs?

Too many questions, with only one answer:
time will never tell.

Previous Poem | Back to Table of Contents | Next Poem