Time Took Its Turn

Oh judge, dear friend, delay is but a muse, No weight to bear, no reason to accuse. For patience blooms where moments linger, Each tick of the clock paints truth with its finger. A poem, though brief, holds depth untold, Not rushed by time, but a treasure to unfold. To weigh its worth, your care was true, For art demands the heart’s review. Forgiveness? It’s needless, your pause is wise, You see the stars, not just the skies. So take your time; it’s never too late, For judgment born of thought is great. We honor the care, the time you’ve spent, Your thoughtful gaze, so reverent. No rush to answer, no need to defend, For poetry’s light will never end.