Call It a Moment of Clarity: A Villanelle

Another piece on the passage of time. I got the idea from a short story I once read about a woman who regretted missing her child’s first school play. Instead she spent the day watching the clock, waiting in a room for a man who never showed up.


Time is the precious currency we spend,

The Here and Now our little, rented space.

Our longest days and darkest nights will end.


This afternoon while waiting for a friend,

Comprehension put me in my place.

Time is the capital that we expend:


Once debited we’ve no way to amend

Deeds left undone; there’s no way to replace

Bright golden days or deep nights when they end.


If blame be cast, I was the one to bend.

I could have run; I merely set the pace.

Time is the treasured currency we spend.


Those sweet half-truths, I never let offend

And only half-believed, in any case.

The longest days and darkest nights will end.


Without faith to borrow, beg, or lend,

Without proof, can we still credit grace?

An hour is a priceless coin to spend.

Our rarest days and richest nights soon end.

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