I Iook at my fathers youthful
carefree face in the ‘techni-colour’photo
I reflect on the fact that,
that was 'then' and this is 'now'
and my fathers 'now'
will be my 'then' soon.

I gaze at my daughters smile
and wonder if this is how my father
felt all that time ago.

I cannot escape the despair
and finality of my,
his our mortality.

I wonder how much time he has left;
how much time I have left...
Time cannot be reclaimed.

Unlike experience,
time can be quantified
But, unlike the calculability and certainty of numbers,
it dawns on me that
time is not a number,

but a quality...


Billy Kavellaris