Another for the ‘One Day’ prompt.


One day is no more than a number,

That is marked by the hands on a clock,

And tomorrow will never be longer,

Than the yesterdays of which we forgot.


We have twenty four hours to ponder,

If the path we have travelled is true,

Or perhaps the road over yonder,

Is the place where we live life anew.


So few precious minutes of memories,

Of love and of life and of laughter,

Where we grieve for lost possibilities,

And we search for our long ever after.


Seconds they go in the blink of an eye,

Just moments in time that we miss,

Like the fluttering wings of a butterfly,

Or the touch of hot breath in a kiss.


For one day is no more than a number,

And life is just the counting of time.

A conundrum to solve before slumber,

And a mountain we mortals must climb.

About helenmidgley

Helen Midgley likes to think of herself as a cross between Dawn French and Kate Moss. She has been in the witness protection programme for a number of years and once lived in Brighton as a bearded mechanic called Dave! Her current incarnation is as a part-time Journalism & Media tutor at a small FE College in Yorkshire. She has survived cancer, dandruff and athlete’s foot and has a penchant for black humour and red wine.

11 comments on “Time………

  1. Great poem and so true. Love how you say that days are made up of numbers.

  2. I love this piece. 🙂 Really love it. Thanks for sharing

  3. Love this. It reads like the ticking of a clock, like a metronome even, rhythmic and well-balanced. With a lovely message too. Great!x

  4. Really enjoyed this poem. 🙂

  5. “…And life is just the counting of time. A conundrum to solve before slumber,…” This is beautiful. Nice poem, Helen.
    I’m hoping all is well for you. I’m off and on this month.

    • Thanks Ellespeth 🙂 My mojo seems to be wavering a bit at min too, although I’ve registered for NaNoWriMo for Nov so hoping to get it back for then. I may change my mind yet, lol. 🙂

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