Things are busy right now, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by the fact that there was no installment of Last Week’s Poetry last Tuesday. It seems all too fitting, then, that I write a sonnet on time to make up for it.

The times stand still as we with them make do
Not Time – for Time itself may never stay
But times may change, for they so oft pursue
more meanings in an hour than a day
The times we seek are good, yet they are not
as good as we recalled our minds had stored
We seek to cheat our life, our given lot
To buy more time than we can well afford
And at the end of our eternal day
when Time – good times – and merriness have gone
we still make do with what the present way
presents to us, as walking, dusk to dawn

We dream of times beginning, times that stay
and never from our own intentions stray

Nov 20/15

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