An Etheree of Time

Reflections of an old woman

Time Passes In slow ticks To be cherished Each sweet tock reserved Stored in a keepsake box In the mind’s secret chamber One day, each tick and tock will be viewed While sitting on a park bench at sunset

I don’t consider referring to myself as an old woman to be self-disparaging. People often cloak individuals who reach my age (almost 75) in euphemisms like “Age is just a number” or “Old is only a state of mind,” as if they are trying to shield us from feeling bad about living so long. While both of those statements are true, they cannot prevent the effects of time on the body and mind, nor can they prevent the inevitable — time runs out for all of us. Before you worry that I am feeling morose about aging, I am not! Realizing that time is ticking, only serves to highlight the wonderful gift that life is. I cherish each day. Each minute. I also hold dear the opportunities that are still available to me, such as exploring new forms of poetry and sharing the “practice wisdom” gained from two professions that I was blessed to experience - clinical social worker and special educator/school counselor. At the age of 68, I married for the first time, after raising my three adopted children from infancy to adulthood. Let’s face it my friends, time marches on for everyone, young and old.

In case you wondered, an etheree is a 10 line poem. The first line is one syllable, and each line thereafter adds one syllable until the 10th line, which (wait for it!) contains 10 syllables!