Time

A gnarled burnt blanch hand holds fast the ticking silver pocket watch
Sped hast life past as its reel flickers unwound
Led down paths not considered by a mind’s sound
Tread light not but make each footfall pound –
Spread to encompass the horizon is death and its found
Dread this and all interest in each breath is stricken and bound
Said he much both my and his own astound
A gnarled burnt blanch hand holds fast the ticking silver pocket watch

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12 thoughts on “Time

  1. Great poem about time, deserving itself a nomination. In it I like the objectivity of the first and last lines, and all the subjective considerations in-between.

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    1. Glad you did – this one just slid by me in a short story I was writing in a notebook, it wasn’t until I was looking at the story that I discovered I had even written the thing!

      Like

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