I lay on my back
losing track of the time,
painting names on the ceiling with
dancing shadows cast by flames
from the fire,
tiring of this game and knowing before painting the
next name I would paint,
I switch on the light.

Time has tracked me and comes back to attack me,
and seeing me quite clearly,
time triumphs over me.
What glorious victory for the time to have picked on me and now it rains down on me, cloaking me in wrinkled skin,
how was it that time got in?.

I lay on my back losing track once again as the pain washes over me while time  stands and watches me and as the coals start to glow and burn slow,
time waits.