Time Flies The older I get, the faster time flies Yet words are slow to appear. I've spent too much time on quilting, Not enough on poems this year. The days go by in a blur. It's hard to pin my thoughts down. They bump and tumble along Taking root in infertile ground, Trying to sprout and grow to a poem But too often withering away For lack of a nurturing hand To keep them from going astray. A few, though, have managed to thrive And made their way to these pages Crawling along on turtle feet While time flies into life's next stages.