Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
It seems to me that time is slipping;
Moving quickly and it’s already


Have I ever felt time the way I felt you.

Will I grasp the waste of the winding clock?
Will I consume it by train of thought?

Day in. Day out.
Queue the violins.
Written by
dog pillow
   --- and Aubree S
Please log in to view and add comments on poems