Time Travellers (Poetry)

They are still here — they are not gone
they’re looking much the same
a strange expression lingers on
they do not hear their name.

The body ages and the mind
is frail and wanders far.
Today’s abandoned — left behind
no map to where they are.

What route they travel to the past
is like a winding thread.
Thin and worn old shadows cast
across the road ahead.

Ghosts that crowd the living out
confuse the then and now
with bygone days to dream about
the brain forgets somehow

what month it is of which dull year
the real world’s fading fast
and time’s the enemy they fear
when nothing’s meant to last...

They’re out of touch, but happy yet
in that lost world they own.
Much kinder, maybe, they forget
than face today alone.