Palindrome
Odd, our relationship.
Who am I to know
what normal is,
I hear *that voice*,
a reminder, an alarm,
beating in my ear-what I am not.
Those lips have yet to give me
the gift of what I have yet to hear-
you are not *that voice.*
This day, tomorrow,
a mechanical
marble
lost amongst all those just alike
whom are all too familiar with today.
Time - so much time. Gone.
So much time. Empty.
So much time- lost to chasing
a moment that has no time for this.
Yet- I wait, for time,
like a child standing outside the window
of a candy store-
these eyes piercing the Sign.
Closed Now, but it will be Open soon,
I know it will! right?
Pockets full of ignorance,
my eyes blind by want,
my heart naive- pleasure dependent
upon a taste-
And like that of time-
a taste dissolved,
a taste no more.
And there I stand, Mechanical.
Alone with that Sign,
a Palindrome.
Copyright © Deniece Harbaugh | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment