Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PASSING HOURS, by HELENA A. BOOTH



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PASSING HOURS, by            
First Line: A wisp of wind has drifted petals near
Last Line: Time weaves new hours upon her loom of gold.
Subject(s): Time


A wisp of wind has drifted petals near,
Each one a fragile bit of summer bloom --
Too soon, the hours, like petals, disappear,
And Time weaves more upon her golden loom.
As carelessly we watch the petals fall,
Each one a breath of beauty -- soon to die,
So, thoughtlessly, we watch each fleeting hour,
Nor value it enough in passing by.
No petal gently wafted to the ground,
Returns to further beautify a flower,
Nor can lost opportunity be found
Again. We must await another hour.

New petals grow to take the place of old.
Time weaves new hours upon her loom of gold.





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