[Stumped]

The Poetry Pages seem to have dried up. May I be excused my attempt at reviving same with a little ditty I penned in 2002 when I was fast approaching my sell-by date. Though the poem largely concerns the town of my birth, I plead exception as it is not strictly Accrington, but Great Harwood does play an important part in the make-up of Hyndburn.

The Passage of Time


The passage of time yields us moments,
From reveries sealed in our minds,
Of places and faces akin to our youth,
And the foibles we thought left behind,
Though the mask in the mirror is older,
The heart of the child beats on still,
To stir up those brief recollections,
That sentiment prompts us to fill.

Like Pandora, time opens up boxes,
That rightly should not be displaced,
For the mellowing, rose tinted passage of time,
Disguises the truth we once faced,
With the lessons of childhood inherent,
To the adult we sooner become,
The genes of our parents cement us,
To the bounds of their strict rule of thumb.

Whence the formative years of our childhood,
Determine the role we enact,
So the lessons instilled in our juvenile years,
Assign us the price we contract,
Since the place of our birth is important,
To the ultimate role that we play,
Let's take time to acknowledge Great Harwood,
'Less the good things in life fade away!

End