What Time Succumbs To
Left open new
Towards the blue
Working anew
Showing a few
Becoming wonder
Left to blunder
About the yonder
Golden to ponder
Simple satisfy
She is so fly
I become alive
Though it may die
She succumbs
To the bums
Of life’s hums
Enormous scums
Freedom elicits
Whatever permits
Shortwave complicit
There’s a deficit
Her eyes don’t lie
She doesn’t deny
I want to cry
But cannot scry
Left alone
She bones
Her left scone
Now belongs
To nothing more
Than a shore
Of trinkets galore
Time takes a snore
Russell Sivey
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