A Tale of The Weathered Sundial’s Ever-Moving shadow

30 Dec

Years have passed:


when we were young, we could tolerate physical pain,

emotional blizzards, and blinding rain.

We sought recognition, fortune, and sometimes illusions fame.


We chased stars in glittering summer nights keeping sentry for sunrise,

celebrating each dawn with a brand new name.

We could even cry, winning or losing, without forcing a fight.


We could talk, discuss, and compromise.

We recognize the beauty in unsuspected surprise.

We were always able to light a candle in the wind

 Finding our way back home on sad dark nights.

We often laughed at ourselves. Believing that pennies

we flipped, fluttering to the bottom of wishing wells


We’d became Peter Pan and Wendy

never growing old. And, totally ignoring Tinkerbell,

we watch our directions flow.


Following our hearts and the work of our hands

we traveled roadways, highways, and paths;

where distance seemed far and time immeasurably fast.


We floated above concrete, soft tar, and beaches with ankle deep sand.

Even paths that were crooked and twisted in shallow water or on solid land.

We were always on each other’s map!


We frolicked in spaces that love only knows

where time, never existed;

along with places, where sadness, was only a short visit.


Eventually, I suppose, age and Peter Pan eclipses

those days, when we are young.



There is only time now:


when we are old. We sit with aches and pain.

Confused, misunderstanding,

we complain.


Our clothes begin to slip or are frayed or they just don’t fit;

along with our recognition, fortune, and the reality of expected fame.

We wear sweaters and warm cotton hats on cool summer nights,


seeing only darkness as a distant fading light.

We Sleep uneasily on worn, thin but forgiving linen.

We, sometimes, forget ourselves with mixed memories,

stuttering on birthdays, which have evaporated in wishing wells.


We try to avoid being stubborn—  guilt ridden for actions mistaken,

poor mathematical intelligence, slips of jealously, pride,

and recognize that we, as we knew, is we that is forgotten.


From steel to rust, from rock to gravel,

from coal to diamond

and back to dust.


The sound of muted bells tick off the clock, like muffled thunder

under the hoofs of deaths’ mercenaries; some from heaven,

and maybe one or two from hell.


We may shed a warm small tear, becoming a prism, to glitter

In the sliver of a waning moon; signaling with joy—

tomorrow’s brand new day,


with its bright sun chasing

A weathered Sundial’s ever-moving shadow


~The Night Before Breakfast~ Vol. I                                        Another Draft Revision


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18 responses to “A Tale of The Weathered Sundial’s Ever-Moving shadow

  1. Sherry Marr

    February 15, 2018 at 11:57 am

    Just re-read this and loved it all over again! Wonderful. That moving shadow is coming too near us, my friend. Make it stop. Smiles.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. bonniejtoomey

    January 29, 2018 at 3:59 pm

    When I think of your last image, a weathered sundial it brings me to my childhood — my dad had made a sundial with concrete and copper and placed it in my mother’s garden and I was fascinated by how it could indicate the time of day by the length of shadow it cast. Poetry tells our stories!


  3. bonniejtoomey

    January 23, 2018 at 1:12 pm

    I won’t grow up!!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Myrna Rosa

    January 8, 2018 at 1:21 pm

    From the comments, I learn you may be ill. I send you lots of good vibes. May you recover soon. My husband too has been ill, so I haven’t been writing much. Nice to visit you again and read your lovely poem. It is intermingled with joy and sadness – life. Old age is definitely an ‘interesting’ stage. I like that you write your observations, thoughts and feelings.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. humbird

    January 8, 2018 at 12:43 pm

    Love the first part, the second – our choice always. Keep moving, keep dreaming, don’t stop! Healthy vibes send to you!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Gillena Cox

    January 8, 2018 at 7:12 am

    Monday Writes 137 is live. I invite you to link in
    Best Wishes for a Bright And Prosperous 2018

    much love…

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Gillena Cox

    January 8, 2018 at 7:12 am

    Ah how daring and encouraging is youth!!!

    “We were always able to light a candle in the wind”

    Happy New Year ZQ

    much love…

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    January 8, 2018 at 6:39 am

    From steel to rust, from rock to gravel,
    from coal to diamond
    and back to dust.

    That’s a good encapsulation.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. truedessa

    January 7, 2018 at 7:08 pm

    Remember “time is now” enjoy the moments of each day, breath in life. I feel the shift in the poem between then and now. There is sorrow and joy between the lines.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Mary

    January 7, 2018 at 7:01 pm

    Ah those good old days, those wonderful recollections! I enjoyed this, ZQ.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Donna@LivingFromHappiness

    January 7, 2018 at 2:51 pm

    I had to read, and read again…..the pleasure and sadness this evoked as my life is written on these words….but I am still staying on the sunny side of this sundial for a while longer I hope. Fabulous piece my friend!

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Sherry Blue Sky

    January 7, 2018 at 12:17 pm

    How we look back and remember those golden times when we were young and squandered our days as if there would always be More. A beautful reverie, ZQ. I especially love the “muffled thunder under the hooves of death’s mercenaries”. Wow! Hope you feel better soon, my friend. Stay in out of the cold. Did you hear Niagara Falls has frozen????

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Jae Rose

    January 7, 2018 at 11:20 am

    A great reflection on life and ageing

    Liked by 1 person

  14. sanaarizvi

    January 7, 2018 at 11:09 am

    This is incredibly moving!❤️ I suppose life catches up with us as we age. We begin to see reality in its various hues of pastel and sable.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. magicofwordsblog

    January 7, 2018 at 11:02 am

    Great imagery and wisdom in this 2-part piece, young vs old. Well done! 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)

    January 7, 2018 at 10:39 am

    I think I’m on the tipping point.. one foot on each side… but I’m feeling weight is slowly shifting—

    Liked by 1 person

  17. rothpoetry

    January 7, 2018 at 9:08 am

    I enjoyed your passage through time!

    Liked by 1 person

  18. Paul F. Lenzi

    December 30, 2017 at 11:41 pm

    you’ve written my life – touched every old chord in my heart



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