Time, measured
On a pocket watch,
Affixed to my side
By a fake-gold chain,
Opened by spring
-loaded button,
Ticks gently by.
I could be waiting
For a train
I could be waiting for my love,
But I am not.
I am not waiting.
Time, confirmed
By the phone
In my pocket,
Connected to everyone
By the faux-magic
Of technology,
brushes by,
Like a man late for work,
Navigating a crowded subway platform
I could be
On my way to work,
I could be
Hurrying along,
But I am not
I am not moving
Time, announced
By the first rays of dawn,
Washes over me,
Its true-golden light
Wrapping me,
And the world
In the new day.
I am
Still.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related