Slow Day


Sitting in a bay window,

Time decides today is slow.

Normally he just rushes past

Here he counts grains in the hour glass.

He considers a moment the power he holds;

How, with patience, the young become old.

How he unites all the people he touches

For not one man alive escapes his clutches

Except by his brother, less welcome than he,

For dead is not really what most wish to be.

Still, they eventually leave Time behind

For without Death, life’s undefined.

He is not really quite jealous of his brother

But it still stings to lose friends to the arms of another

His own existence, he knows, is what makes it so

Inevitable yes, but today… today can be slow.






© 2011 (Jan. 5)

Joshua Murray




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