The Time of Your Life

I recently joined a creative writing group and wrote this piece following my first meeting.

The Time of Your Life – that well worn phrase
Favoured cliché of my mother
Kids happily playing – yes they’re having the time of their lives.
But what does it mean to me, now?
I recall a time I felt, well, betrayed – almost
Perhaps that’s too harsh a word.
I’d gone to a meeting in good faith
With people I knew and trusted.
I didn’t expect such a question.
Meant as a challenge? A taking stock?
Draw a clock, we were told
Mark on it where you think you are in life.
Stark reminder of mortality
Of ageing
Of things I didn’t want to think about.
The Time of Your Life – a time of enjoyment
That was my mother’s meaning
Sounds good. And positive.
And yet, there is this subtle hint
That this one time can never be surpassed.
This is THE time
No other can ever be so good.
But every moment passes
The way of every other.
Some with relief, some with regret
All future is fleetingly Now
Then gone.
Gone, but not quite gone
For some lives on in memory.
Gives colour, texture to the now
The me that relishes this moment
Would not be me without my past.
The time of life
Is now.