Apr 2021
When the day is done
For the day
And the thoughts settle
In the quiet of the night
The thoughts find a resting place
Picking up the peculiar
And particular moments
The day had
When it had just begun
Rolling out the perfect hours
And those
Wasted, like an amateur
Trying to find the best time
Losing out
Swears by the alarm
At leisure
Counts the seconds and every minute
To cherish
Through the day
Together
The hands only met twice
Rest of the time, stretched wide
Apart
Running around in circles
Shrugging shoulders at ten past ten
The clock says
What is done is done
