Split Seconds
Time flies without excuses
measured by decrepit faces
the pendulum weighs heavy
moments spent wanting more
in a split second
it happens…
a reaper’s blade chiming the end.
© Rebecca Sanchez 2016
Written with Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.
Wow!! Nice description…
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Thank you!
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what a beauty, true and humbling!
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Thank you!
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Love your opening line
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Thank you Susie!
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I like the way your poem ends ominously with the sound of the reaper’s blade – and it chimes!
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Thanks Kim!
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Yes, but good to be here at all.
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I am so glad I am here for the time that I have!
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And at such a moment, one must realize what one had – life – was Enough!
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It would be sad to have those last moments taken from you.
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The scythe is always hanging above us… memento mori.
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Yes it is, and one day we all feel it’s cut.
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Ooh! Ouch! My granddaughter understands this only too well – her mother-in-law was murdered in January this year.
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That is so sad! I am sorry for her loss that is hard to take. My father was murdered in 1990 and I have never fully recovered from it.
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The split second is all it takes.. we live on the knife’s edge.
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Always Kerry!
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