Where we’re born we have no say,
Conveyor starts you’re on the way.
Infancy years the belts slow pace,
You’d hardly think this life’s a race.
Never shame nor denial,
Care free days bless a juvenile.
Belt speeds up, teenage years appear,
Approached hands free still no fear.
The belt it pauses for love’s first kiss,
You jump off quick, a moment’s bliss.
It’s not real love though slightly smitten,
You like the feel once you are bitten.
You jump back on to the next horizon,
Thoughts fill in your head, you’re summarizing.
Ride the belt early adult years,
Cheers, jeers but seldom tears.
The belt stops still, no words to utter,
Heads a spin, hearts in a flutter.
One word, one line, one look, one glance,
You feel so sure both take a chance.
Belt starts up but this time for two,
You always think you’ll see it through.
But years drift by no warning place,
The conveyor belt is gaining pace.
Suddenly the belt goes slack,
Your heart it takes a mighty whack.
That flutter, the one, you feel again,
It’s back though clouded with a tint of pain.
The belt has parted, it’s split in two,
Which way is right, what should you do?
Ride the belt that’s gaining pace,
Or navigate to a brand new place?
A choice to make now the belt’s apart,
Navigate with head or with your heart?
copyright 2009 Mark Curtis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting analogy of life.THOUGH, usually the belt around the belly gets longer