The jaundiced eyes that yellow skin,
won’t someone open up and let me out or let me enter in,
and be frolicsome,indulge in sin.

Time.
The pot bellied pig dancing its jig while my bones start to crumble away,
Come time and lay with me or do you just play with me, is that the game you prefer?
I see you and your hands and those cruel metal bands that you hold
and tell me time if you can,
why make this man old,why can’t you stay, the hours of the hours of the day and belay any thought of letting the minutes walk on right through me,
why can’t we be friends?

You look at me lovingly while plotting to smother me,why don’t you just Mother me,nurse me not curse me,don’t bother me
there are so many others to go out and disturb with your hands that perturb and your chimes only chime to mock at my rhymes.
I need more
I need more time
I implore you to hear me,
not sit there and laugh while you hungrily feed on me.

The end.
It will come
just when I started,
Aye,aye just when I began to have fun and the bell of the last round has rung
It’s a knock out
a lock out
and try as I might there is no way to continue the fight,the referee has decided that time is the winner by three falls to one
and thus
I am gone.

Not forgotten
I hasten to say,
time laughs and still laughs at me where I would lay
and a long time it will be
I see that as a certainty.
I rest between the pillows of grass,waving willows goodbye,aye and I sigh
as will we all, when time gets through with me and you and wipes her hands clean
meanwhile,
I shall dream of the time when time stops and everything
drops into place.
copyright © John Smallshaw all rights reserved

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