Running Time


In fancy free days
it would seem I had welcomed
only
bright lights
… and ran against the grain
yearning for colours drastic!

Now

what seems a quick
flick of the wrist
is how I seek pastels
… run with the wind
and
hide away in the shadowy corners

Then
the day seemed paused
… infinite

Now the blunt hand of time
crevices this face
in the truth of the moment

… it’s running out

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© 1999 Charlotte Mair