Too Much Happens

Too much happens in one day
too many thoughts slip me by

the roosters wait outside my door
hunched & fluffed against the drizzle
I cannot remember the blue of the sky
I cannot remember a breeze which is warm

When I was a child I dreamt of living in a place like this
Now I am old & cannot walk the view is as detached
as the television screen I cannot enter
as all the worlds I know are there but do not believe in
I am told the world is a sphere, flattened at the poles
I wander thru' the universe, gaseous Mars, ice-ringed Saturn,
cold cold Pluto, the unwanted child
But still the world is flat beneath my feet
& each day lasts a year
and each year is but a day.

© Liz Winfield