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Waste Of Time

 

It is so dark outside

we cannot see a star

we are at the edge of Fall

and the sun refuses to cooperate

it should have been shining by now

but it is still stuck somewhere below

that slim crack called the horizon

waiting for a signal to rise

for the sun

timing is everything

we cannot depend on daylight

and it's saving grace

soon we will turn back the clocks

as we turn our backs to Summer

we think we will gain on time

and finally have the upper hand

yet later in a remarkable turnaround

we will pay the price

when Time

with a smirk on its clock face

takes that hour back again.

 

 

◄ Vacant Lot

Requiem For Moth ►

Comments

Big Sal

Mon 15th Oct 2018 18:28

If this poem was written 1,000 years ago, you'd be branded a heretic.

Good thing times have changed eh??

(I'm just kidding)

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