Tortoises and Hares

we move at different speeds

her ten years of ‘can’t wait’ to

become eleven rip by apace,

I cling grimly to my present with

bleeding fingernails, ruefully

watching my past steadily

snowball behind me,

she tells me excitedly of her

wonderful plans and I feign

a thinly colluded delight, always

wondering if I will be around to

share in her assured successes,

we readily pour our never-ending

urn of love into the fathomless

well where our grandchildren

thrive, asking nothing in return

other than the chance to see

our own tomorrows today

Published by grahamrsherwood