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arianafgPoems
Why is it that Borrowed time flies by Even while you’re looking— but a watched *** still won’t boil when you’re hungry, Or cold, Or alone. That’s why I don’t believe in atonement. Time is both a thief And a father; Setting the table every Hour, Teaching hard lessons Over a dinner that’s always too fresh and too hot. But Eat up, he demands it. Don’t dare try to defy Time He is always there Over your shoulder, In the air. In dimly lit theaters. “Now” You swear you hear As your date’s hair brushes your ear. This is “First date numberrrrr…” It doesn’t matter Kiss her Or don’t. Father Time will know. When you get home he’ll be waiting alone At The table, with a lesson and a plate. Dinner every hour, then suddenly every half. But make no mistake— on the days Where suffering And strife Rules your life He’ll spread a 12 course feast And make you eat Until that plate is clean; Empowered, Somewhere A clock tolls Another hour. China clinks. The chair groans. Father Time looks the same— While your bones grew old And Your tired frame strains To lift the spoon.. Breath too short to cool the soup.. But before long it is tepid Just enough to sneak a bite, Before Father Clears the table and sets it right again.
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Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
Breakfast Every Hour
Why is it that Borrowed time flies by Even while you’re looking— but a watched *** still won’t boil when you’re hungry, Or cold, Or alone. That’s why I don’t believe in atonement. Time is both a thief And a father; Setting the table every Hour, Teaching hard lessons Over a dinner that’s always too fresh and too hot. But Eat up, he demands it. Don’t dare try to defy Time He is always there Over your shoulder, In the air. In dimly lit theaters. “Now” You swear you hear As your date’s hair brushes your ear. This is “First date numberrrrr…” It doesn’t matter Kiss her Or don’t. Father Time will know. When you get home he’ll be waiting alone At The table, with a lesson and a plate. Dinner every hour, then suddenly every half. But make no mistake— on the days Where suffering And strife Rules your life He’ll spread a 12 course feast And make you eat Until that plate is clean; Empowered, Somewhere A clock tolls Another hour. China clinks. The chair groans. Father Time looks the same— While your bones grew old And Your tired frame strains To lift the spoon.. Breath too short to cool the soup.. But before long it is tepid Just enough to sneak a bite, Before Father Clears the table and sets it right again.
arianafg
Written by
arianafg
30/F
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
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