Your Time


 

The moment’s gone without a thought for you.

Already,  he’s a never-ending beat.

He waits for few and has a rendezvous

with lovers of his own tempestuous heat.

Do not assume the beast will sudden, turn

or pause or yield a second chance, your dice

once thrown. He’ll but allow what you may earn

within your slot. The rooster crows but twice.

Lay waste your time or take it to the max.

It matters not the things you might redo.

Your minutes will be eaten. Don’t relax!

Ol’ time will have his finite taste of you.

So sudden will your seconds turn to hours.

Already you are buried ‘neath the flowers.

Old Wood Bench 564448_1718279685085015_5508568055532594321_n

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Frank Solanki

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