GUESTBOOK: “On Borrowed Time” (a poem by Anne Vance)

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Don’t talk to me of passing time
or of paradise to come;
I’ve just begun to live!
I haven’t scaled Mt. Everest
or traveled to the moon.
I’ve been to Paris,
but I haven’t been to France.
I’ve had a glimpse of Norway,
but have never seen the fiords.
Mexico is just next door.
I spent two nights in Guaymas
And gathered shells upon the shore
But know little of the language or the culture.
I want to roam the world and get to know the planet, if only from my desk.
I’d like to speak a language other than my own;
to be able to communicate face to face.
There are many cultures different from the one I know. I’d like to learn about them and to understand, and to tell them about mine.
Before I die, I want to see the face of my great grandchild and to hold her by the hand.
She is the key to my eternal life,
the repository of my hopes and fears for the future of this Planet Earth.

Death, stand back a bit and lend me time.

*

(© Anne Vance)

With fond, loving memories of a sweet and kind friend