Aging, All Poems, Time

A Race

A Race

An athlete I have never been.
Nor ever aspired to be.

Pitching, hitting, tackling, sprinting, jumping.
Even scoring held little interest.
Instead, I ensconced myself.
In the pursuit of knowledge.
Complex, yet simple.

To my chagrin, at sixty, I see a finish line of sorts.

I realize I’ve been procrastinating.
Unawares, I’m registered in a universal race.
The one against time.

Lynn Benjamin

July 5, 2009