pondering Pablo, I stretch time
at Timothy’s on Sherbourne Street,
with you making entries in your journal
this bright April Sunday morning

the time we have slips a little each day,
each moment

trees, still bare, give hope
of new bloom, new blush,
(like a teenager learning to smile)
to gravely inform us of
this new time – reminding
us of the passage of the old!

time slips by the second


Bonaventure Saptel