Fugit - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
Bid here today, tomorrow pass
ghost shadow in time's looking glass,
most strut short hours upon life's stage
with scarce enough for living wage,
their kids perpetuate the farce
till heirlooms, hairlines seedy, sparse,
prepare next act, fact turns the page
on caged love, rage, upstaged youth, age.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about Fugit by Jonathan ROBIN
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.