Time
Time
Tomorrow is but a short, twenty fours from today.
Yet tomorrow never comes, it becomes history,
as soon as the moment passes, it lived and died,
all it could become, gone in the blink of an eye.
We stand on the razors edge and wonder ?,
what ?, laid in the sliver of light of that moment.
Souls coming souls going ?, de-ja-vu ?, psychic sight ?,
precognition ?, clairvoyance ?, meeting oneself in a mirror ?.
B. J. “A” 2
April 8th 2004
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
