~ Time ~
The time was flexible, would blend, and stretch, and pore
Like burning streams before they turn to steel.
The time is hardened now, and out of breath no more,
It clinks and clanks, and has a metal feel.
It finds its energy in purposeful exchange:
One forceful smile for one dramatic look.
A bag of tricks to mask the obvious change
Is dangling from an old and rusty hook.
The time is pushing on, gets richer every day
With sweet-sour lies and glances met in shame,
Beneath the wilted flowers and letters tucked away
It keeps a spark in memory of the flame.
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur