Once, the world rotated with more pauses.
Time grew grain by grain, not flash.
If you wanted, you learned to linger.
Desire stretched long like summer shadows.
Waiting wasn’t punishment, it was presence.
You sat with stillness, made it hum.
Boredom wasn’t banished, it built wonder.
Imagined boats from shoes, sailed halls.
Broken things weren’t discarded, they taught.
How a crack could cradle new strength.
Fixing carried fingerprints of your effort.
It took hours, maybe more, to mend.
A slower pace etched love in the edges.
No instant blur of beginnings or endings.
Relief wasn’t delivered, it was earned.
Patience stained hands, bright beams lingered.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 27th, 2025 04:53
- Comment from author about the poem: This is #1 in a series about growing up in the 60's and 70's .
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
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Comments3
Well written. Your poem explores themes of time, presence, and the beauty found in slowing down. It contrasts contemporary impatience with a more contemplative approach to life, emphasizing the lessons learned from waiting and the significance of mending broken things.
Thanks for sharing your feedback
In a lazy world of disposable items where things are no longer fixed but replace and even relationships are throw aways this piece may be hard to understand but I hear it and remember those days when mending things was a necessary art and the mended took on more value than the new. I love the line "Fixing carried fingerprints of your effort. " This has deep meaning for me. Very nicely done Gray
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback
You are welcome Gray
Excellent, well penned. We live in haste. Gone are the days of slow and methodical.
Thanks Katie I appreciate your feedback and happy new year 🎊
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