And Time Marches On Poem by C.R. Ebowski

My body belongs in a youngster’s generation,
Free from gray hairs and age spots,
But there are wrinkles on my shriveled heart,
Symptomatic of life’s harsh lessons.
Time is measured by minutes, hours, days.
Years have flown by, carried by everydayness.
Wisdom is gathered from the experiences,
And unfortunately there has been too many.
As I look into my past, moments grab me like
Mile markers that signify a vital turning point.
There are so many forks in this road
That I am not sure I could find my way back
For one more chance to make things right.
So I will continue running this marathon,
Placing one foot in front of the other.
Soon my outside will reflect my weathered inside
As the ghost of past catches up to torment me,
Magnifying the mistakes I have made.