Fugit Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
Fugit
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.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: kids
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
(26 December 1977 revised 19 September 2013)
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8/17/2026 6:31:48 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
