A New Year: Time To Turn The Page ⌛

  “Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Timelike dew on the tip of a leaf.”— Rabindranath Tagore
As I reflect on 2021 and look ahead to 2022, I'm hoping I will have more time to read and write in the New Year ☺. Escaping into a story remains the best distraction from the challenges of daily life and the wider world. 
Time is something of an enigma. It never passes more quickly than when I'm lost in a good book, and it never passes more slowly than when I'm struggling with writer's block. It's a fascinating contradiction—something that is measurable yet always changing. I love exploring the concept of time in a magical setting when I'm writing. Time travel, time loops, ageing (or not!), life trading, curses, ultimatums... the possibilities are endless.
The dawn of a New Year always feels like an opportunity, as if time stops for a moment to allow us to start over. Today's blog post includes a few of my favourite poems on the subject of time. I hope you enjoy them, and more importantly, I hope 2022 brings you good health and happiness. Oh, and also lots of new books along with the time to read them! Thank you very much for visiting my blog today 💕.
Two things are yours that no man's wealth can buy:The air, and time;And, having these, all fate you may defy,All summits climb.― Amos Russel Wells
I had not known beforeForever was so long a word.The slow stroke of the clock of timeI had not heard.‘Tis hard to learn so late;It seems no sad heart really learns,But hopes and trusts and doubts and fears,And bleeds and burns.The night is not all dark,Nor is the day all it seems,But each may bring me this relief—My dreams and dreams.I had not known beforeThat Never was so sad a word,So wrap me in forgetfulness—I have not heard.― Paul Laurence Dunbar
You - My destinyLove of my lifePlease let meReturnTo where we wereLet usTry againMaybe this timeWe find a wayMaybe...― Ann Hirsch
Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration finds,Or bends with the remover to remove.O no! it is an ever-fixed markThat looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand'ring bark,Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeksWithin his bending sickle's compass come;Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,But bears it out even to the edge of doom.If this be error and upon me prov'd,I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.― William Shakespeare