How important is time, really?!
Does it matter that I sit patiently?
Does it matter that I have tried to move
those hands backwards?
The hands of time are broken now;
unable to move forward and advance.
They are stuck,
remain static,
pointing at eleven
(not twelve or one).
One...now that is something
to think about.
Which one...someone...
everyone...
All choices that we can make,
that we can blame (or not)
or remain in limbo with the
world spinning around us and
us standing still.
Still standing.
Us.
One and one= eleven.
One and one= us.
smiles. nice close...one + one = good math...
ReplyDeleteVery nice. This poem flows into itself.
ReplyDeleteCan we make all time stick for just a little while, would give us more time for all this creative stuff...
ReplyDeleteLove your blog.
yes we are ONE. Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteAh, that limbo. I know it well.
ReplyDelete(thanks for leaving that wonderful comment about the November "Beaver" moon, Teri!)
very interesting! thanks for giving me something to think about!
ReplyDeleteI like the last line of enclosure, being together as we face the ticking clock.
ReplyDelete