to be in a hurry,  won't do,
deadlines,
are always there?
Time, is reflective, always
was will be scarce, why rush it?

Slow those hands, push them down to
half past when,
halfway to then.

Seconds,  take reflecting
meditating,  remembering,
hear concentrate on the sounds
of birds,
walk outside now, this very  instant,
briefly feel   awareness-
actually hear-
those birds chirp,  a background
chorus to a most important symphony.

Let the time tick-tock as the rhythm
is the backbeat,
feel that last brief wisp that color
that smile that feeling, let it sink in
mean something more than what needs done.

Don't hurry it. It comes.

a table salt spilled next to the dead
warrior, a young ******, stands
frozen, over his limp body,
a garrison marched into
a vault stole every thing of any value,
left only, drips of terror
fallow cries whispers
dry lips horror
death,
from the reeking remains of
history, the teacher taught me,
about Germanic victories, Viking tales,
conquistadors.
There,
was where i remember,
this.

one time upon
a girl
     had  a lamb
and lost sheep
   where I offered
to sleep on it find
   it tomorrow.
She did not fall for
   it.

at night past ten, alone,
I thought, how very much
I liked
Miss
Emily
Dickinson.

I
,  after twelve now,knew
how much alike we were.
At the
******
of her smile
    I saw

I wrote to her,
said Thank you.
She responded,
     cordially.