Quickly time passes; seconds run
To minutes, years from hours, days
And on and on it goes, always
Ticking off moments one by one.
At what young age had I begun
To be aware of how it whirls
So dizzily, turning that girl
Into a woman? Barely born
And so soon learning then to mourn —
Yet still rejoicing over pearls.
A décima for the weekly challenge, using the word “whirl” in the C spot this time. I was maybe 7 or 8 when I first was viscerally, painfully aware of time and how it passes. Also shared with the Writers’ Pantry at PSU.