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Living in the Moment

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Photo: Donarreiskoffer

This poem by Sarah Strange first appeared in The Poet in the Woods 

That Time is infinite – we know
But the speed at which we feel it go
Varies from very fast to slow
God’s hand is deft
If in a queue we have to wait
For tickets, does the train come late?
Of course not – Murphy’s laws dictate
That it’s just left.

However, when you’re having fun
Say on holiday in the sun
Two weeks will soon roll into one
At speed of light
Those in love know what I mean
The fast pace spins them though a dream
While others plod through dull routine
This can’t be right.

The intensity of a first meeting
Fired up like central heating
Is a joy so sharp and yet so fleeting
Though memories last
Living in the moment is so rare
Time speeds up every time we’re there
How is then that we don’t dare
To live this fast?

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