Maya Arredondo Poet Free verse

Time: A Poem

Time slips in and out

when doing the something you like.

Time slips out and in,

when doing something you hate, 

but how can we truly measure,

time,

when there is so little time,

yet not enough time.

 


Hours pass as they all do,     

but I have no time left.

No time left to be me.

So much time to be me.

Yet I have so much,

time left to be me.

  

How will I know,      

if time is too much,

or too little?



Only a decade in a century

Only a year in a decade

Only 12 months in a year.

Only 4 weeks in a month.

Only 52 weeks in a year.

Only 7 days a week.    

Only 365 days in a year.

Only 24 hours in a day.

Only 60 minutes in an hour.

Only 60 seconds in a minute.


So much time,

Yet so little time.

I wish I had more time.

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Alison A Smith October 6, 2026 at 7:05 PM The free-verse form and repeated “time” create a shifting rhythm that reflects the speaker’s uncertainty. The countdown from decades to seconds gives shape to something elusive, while “No time left to be me” adds a poignant personal depth to the contrast between abundance and scarcity.