As a child time creeps forth
Too slow
Now we gallop faster and faster-
I could feel tomorrow slipping into me
Before today would be done.
(Close my eyes and I was there; the empty places are collapsing
when nothing held them up)
Years are piled at my door
Endings tapping at the back of my shoulder
As futures finish before they will be born.
Bring back the line, time
Or send it forward;
I don’t like this jumbled mess,
This shifting mass of yesterday and tomorrow
And pointless todays clumping about me in one
Seething muddle.
A little geometric order would be nice.
Jun 10, 2011
Jun 10, 2011 at 6:58 AM UTC
As a child time creeps forth
Too slow
Now we gallop faster and faster-
I could feel tomorrow slipping into me
Before today would be done.
(Close my eyes and I was there; the empty places are collapsing
when nothing held them up)
Years are piled at my door
Endings tapping at the back of my shoulder
As futures finish before they will be born.
Bring back the line, time
Or send it forward;
I don’t like this jumbled mess,
This shifting mass of yesterday and tomorrow
And pointless todays clumping about me in one
Seething muddle.
A little geometric order would be nice.
