This poem is still under construction, but I’m stuck for a new blog topic! Bear with me, and behold the person who swore NEVER to put something “in progress” out there!


Time was, you couldn’t wait to hear my voice

You’d call the house before I’d even closed the door,

Eager to hear my day’s events, what made me laugh, made me pause

And you’d say good-bye with a promise to talk tomorrow.


Time was, you made places for me in your life

Finding moments to make special, no matter how brief

Putting sleep aside to make sure we touched minds, if not hands

Helping me feel welcome among friends who knew you well.


Time was, you gave up your strict schedule

Found you could laugh and have fun, leaving work behind

Discovered the time to play, and to keep our time together whole

So I never wondered if you wanted to be with me. I knew you did.


Time was the thing that made familiarity grow into complacence:

The extra few minutes we stole for intimacy

Were given, reluctantly, to the people we claimed weren’t important

Because giving in was easier than speaking out.


Time was soon our least shared gift,

With each other. But time was always in sure supply

For the things we said we “had” to do, and too short

For the things we said we “wanted” to do.


Time was used to argue for and about “us”

Sharpening our words to cut through the defenses

We built through hours that grew late,

And by expectations that went unmet.


Until finally, words spent and dreams shaken rudely awake,

We had to accept that we had run our course,

That angry words and sharp retorts and bitter disappointments

Were never really the problem.

Time was.




Share on Facebook

About Billie Noakes

The writer you want for crisp, clean copy.
This entry was posted in art, artists, nostalgia, Poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.