Hands of Time
The still, early morning crawl
The minutes tick, the hours tock
Hands of Time, marching on
Past the fences, past the farms
Put the mists before my eyes
Put the cobwebs in my mind
Climb the hill at glacial speed
Move with me – deceptively
Reel the line in steadily
So I think it’s you, not me –
Don’t look back, as I am wont
Upon the tapestry you’ve wrought
Painted on vermillion skies
Slowly, slowly passing by
Leaving but a parting trace
Lost in lines upon my face
---
Oh, Hands of Time! Marching on
Your masterpiece is but a con
Disengage – impassively
Even disingenuously
Let the light and landscape fade
As fade they will at close of day
Come for me before the dawn
Before I wake to find you gone
Taking from the blue sky blue
The breath I once had held for you
Copyright © John Oldham | Year Posted 2023
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