Time II

Time, when you misplaced it,
Lost its meaning. You skipped 
A beat, but time itself was
Unmoored. Its loss was ours.
Misdirected,  time is restless; 
Grows untimely and awkward. 
Time can run out while you're
Patting your pockets looking 
For it as if it were a set of keys.
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Published by therealtamara

For an opinionated woman such as I, blogging is an excellent outlet. This is one of many fori that I use to bloviate. Enjoy! Comment on my commentary.

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  1. Pingback: Poems of time and remembrance – this is our life
  2. Pingback: Time, the bandit – I am who I am

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