Is it possible for time to fly by so fast,

yet at the same time stand dead still?

Is it reasonable to feel all that's passed

was but a moment's fill?

Can so many lives have altered

while mine seemingly remains the same?

One day a babe in arms,

the next right on my heels.

They are aging right before my eyes,

but I don't know how that feels.

I haven't aged - then, that's not true,

my mind just likes to play that game.

So as to time, it's flown again,

this time bringing joyous news.

Another life, enjoined with mine,

one my age must now recuse.

Life's flight matters not a whit,

it's what we've chosen for its frame.

So, flying by or stopping dead,

time ignores what's done or said,

and our existence within its sphere

is exclusively through choices made.

And as I celebrate over that joyous news,

I embrace those many years gone by,

knowing that, in spite of age or time,

they contain a life I cannot deny.

Great grandson #2 (and I'm only 20 . . . in my head).