Time's Accelerating Chariot Poem by Mary Champion

In childhood, the time passed
like a snail with arthritis.
An eternal chasm stretched between
one Christmas and another.
Centuries separated this birthday
from the next.
A month was too long to wait
for anything except the start of term
or a trip to the dentist.

As I matured
it speeded up a little.
But it still kept a leisurely pace
admiring the view as it passed.
And even in my twenties
Monday to Friday stretched
interminably between weekends.

It was in motherhood
that the rot set in.
But it was erratic.
Between baby's feeds
it broke the speed limit.
But waiting for the same baby
to fall asleep
it reverted to a crawl.

As I had been promised
by those older and wiser,
the acceleration grew
as I hit middle age.
But it remained an uneven ride.
Workdays still took for ever,
holidays took flight.

Retirement was when it began
to outrun me.
Every New Year I vow
to keep it in check,
slow it down,
But it isn't me holding the wheel,
it's Lewis Hamilton
intent on winning another World title.
Soon it will break the land speed record.
How long before I reach escape velocity?

2015