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.

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(26 December 1977 revised 19 September 2013)
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