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Poem of the Week|25| PASTIME

By Elodie Glerum

PASTIME

In my youth
I kept postponing the future
Again and again
Feeling I had plenty of time.

There was no rush
No sympathy
For bleak contemplation in parks
And quiet walks by the sea.
I was reasonably repulsed by the old guys
And maybe they think
They have seen the city
For they all carry plastic bags
With souvenirs in them.

There was nothing that could bind me to you
Father
Nothing
That mattered more
Than sleep in the afternoon.

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The town was near
Friends were many
And a girlfriend or two
Who were well taught
Never to ask
When, where, how many.

But then, the weather changed
Hail struck
I became you
And you were old.

Elodie Glerum 1 posts 0 comments

Elodie was born to a Swiss mom and a Dutch father. When finally able to leave the Swiss countryside, she relocated to Amsterdam. She belongs to the Swiss literary collective AJAR, and was a laureate of the Prix interrégional jeunes auteurs (2006, 2007, 2008), and Prix de la Ville de Gruyères (2012, 2014). Some of her stuff was published in journals from that Alpine country, among which the Montreux Jazz Chronicle 2013, Le Persil and Le Passe-Muraille, as well as in decayed public toilets (although she doesn't remember quite well where). Occasionally, she tries to write poetry in English.