Vacation Poem by Max Reif
Vacation
from here
over the next hill
all the way to the horizon,
like a vast, green expanse,
nothing to do
but stay in my bed if I want,
TV on or off, read & write,
go down to the computer.
after a few days
—because somehow we're always travelling—
the horizon's changed,
scattered with famililar obligations.
Time, you burglar,
I can't even see you,
it's not a fair fight!
This could easily be looked at as your membership of this site Max, where every hour the horizon keeps changing. Obligations; I think there are obligations being on here, whether they be to ourselves (to present our work) or to others. i like the way that the computer is suggested as a time machine. Of course time itself is not universally real, what is morning to you is late afternoon for me (I think) . Brilliant piece Max. These were my readings of it. This is 'what it said to me'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:05:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Time is indeed an invisible burglar that we will try to chase to no avail... trying to freeze some precious moments so time doesnt dare erase them