Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Eras

I'm sitting at the end of an era and
dangling my feet over the edge,
watching the river of days move beneath them
as their colors blend together into the past.
I suppose I will miss it a little, and
perhaps will be surprised as this
blurry line between now and then
becomes more and more defined
as the stream flows by, and I wonder
what I'll tell my children about the
times they never got to absorb.

Today will soon seem to them like the grainy,
yellowed but colorless newspapers
in my grandparents' attic, steeped in time
and manifesting only the faintest whiff
of yesterday's present in the here and now.
It's hard to believe they all once felt
the same way about their own times,
their own eras, before those defining lines
gradually formed between the wars and
rulers, and discoveries, and musical genres,
and set them apart from the rest.

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