Poetry · Thoughts

The Era of My Life

Ticktock goes my life,

and  I worry in syncopation,

“This?”

“That?”

“Now?”

“When?”

“Here?”

“There?”

“Yes?”

“No?”

The moments turn into hours

and the clock continues on in blissful infinity.

But I question my allotment,

as if I have any control over a period, let alone an eternity.

I rush and rant;

looking forward and then looking back while I miss this moment completely.

And the clock on the wall silently nods.


 

RDS (c) April 20, 2020

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