- Penelope Shuttle
I was running out of time
or time was running out of me
I was no longer
decades of clear water
Time
was a cache of lions,
the end of all the birds
I was hurrying to catch up with Time,
while Time stayed home
doing the ironing,
folding his minutes,
smoothing his hours,
soon there’d be not a crumpled second
for me to hide in
[NOTE: This was originally posted on Apr 19, 2007.]
No comments:
Post a Comment