~
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
The last line seals the piece....it made me go back and read it again, two times. Lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brenda. Happy Birthday, Wordle! :-)
DeleteI agree with Bren. This takes rereading and then again, for all its possibilities. The poem has a tight cohesive feel to it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Margo! I'm doing a happy dance :-)
DeleteFantastic, and I too like the last line. The imagery is really nice and I especially like "dangling from an old and rusty hook" Excellent take on the words!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, very kind of you!
DeleteLiked this very much, especially the hard industrial feel of the beginning contrasted with the 'softness' (wilted flowers and letters) at the end. Very good.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mark, glad you liked it.
DeleteI, like the time you describe, once was flexible. Now? Not so much!
ReplyDeleteA Whirling Baker’s Half-Dozen
:-) I know the feeling!
Delete