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