A poem a week for a year. |
| Acceleration They say that time speeds up with age and, when we’re close to an allotted span, the years are swift and barely remembered, as though we ride a runaway train with throttle stuck and speed increasing, decades flashing by in streamlined haste, memories compressed to wafer thin, bright instants of sudden understanding, momentary islands in the general stream of lives hurrying to a destination unknown, and up ahead looms the final station, last stop on the experiential line, the period to the ultimate sentence of the last chapter in this life's story. They also say that it’s a journey, that there’s more in the movement than the indeterminate goal and so, without regard for what lies beyond, just sit back and enjoy the ride. Line Count: 19 Free Verse For Promptly Poetry, Week 25 Prompt: Include these words in your poem: chapter, time, regard. |