Wake up, go to school, sleep, and eat,

A momentary lapse or two within a monotoned routine,

The end of another year, one more or two,

A new birthday, a new life built for you.

Fleeting, fleeing.

“Oh look, here comes our two-year old”

“What an adorable child!”

Waddles on her two tiny legs,

Holding her arms up for mum, her world,

For she’s got no other care in the world.

Fleeting, fleeing.

“Look, you’re eight!”

“Jeez, get yourself under control! You’re going to be a big kid now!”

Here comes Year 3! I’m halfway through primary school!

“Oh, homework! My life’s the worst!”

Little did you know, you had high school spread out in front of you.

Look, Em’s here.

She’s so cute! We’re going to be best friends forever!

Fleeting, fleeing.

“Ugh, give me some freedom! I’m already in high school…”

Love does prick like a thorn when you’re almost thirteen,

Already, you’re drifting apart from your parents,

Where there was once patience and joy,

There’s the occasional flash of arguing and rebellion.

Fleeting, fleeing.

Blow out the candles, “happy birthday!”

It’s the hallowed age of fourteen,

Reset, repeat like a broken machine,

Compare, contrast, and compete,

To be able to be a good person in life.

“God, she’s so pretty. Why can’t I look more like her?”

“That guy’s SO good-looking.”

“Mum, just let me go out. My god, why are u so controlling?”

What happened to that innocent happiness?

What happened to that clear mind?

And now, she hits seventeen.

It’s the HSC’s, and she really wants that medical degree.

“Em, leave me alone!”

Dirty looks thrown; battles fought.

That abandoned teddy-bear lays there, from when you were two,

A glimpse of what you used to be.

Fleeting, fleeing.

You graduate, and get that degree,

Or maybe you don’t,

Perhaps your interests completely change,

Maybe you’ve moved out and cut everyone off,

Maybe you’ve remembered your past,

A childhood out of grasp,

During fleeting, fleeing moments of sadness.

Where did the time go?

Where did this foreign person come from?

When did I begin looking into the mirror and wondering who I’ve become?

Time is such a fleeting, fleeing entity,

Just a transient thunderstorm of memories,

Once it’s gone, it’s gone,

Before

We

Even

Know

It.

We truly are such fleeting, fleeing things.

Signing off…