Apathy of Time
My springtime born dreams heart-chime to be realized.
I still tend them though now I twill on winter stairs.
Cruel is aloof time tossing hearts paralyzed.
Hopes of mine are hostage roped in time’s mechanics.
Tick-tock purposed, time imposes count fanatics
that dreams I weave to unfold, it tolls as despairs.
Count all hearts that beat-start without dream existence
and numbers would waste, neither written or erased.
From first birth cry, our essence dream sighs insistence.
Absent dream gauze, all clearly appear spirit born.
To know dream-lifts embrace, I have cuddle laid torn.
Time raced quicker than I could bear being snare chased.
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