It seems as if I was welcoming The new year only yesterday… Here I am, at the beginning Of the sixth month. Time seems to seep past me Like a silent, wet flow From a leaking tap Rather than elapse In clearly marked segments. Time slowly settles In deepening wrinkles on my face In accumulated dust In babies whom I cannot recognize From my last visit. It peeps at me from obituary columns. It winks at me from old photographs. It bewilders me and fogs my brain When I stop thinking of what was, And try to think of what will be. The dim veil of the past, The curtained future.. As I contemplate them, Each second of the present Slips away, forever, from me.