Saturday, December 10, 2011

To the Displaced

Many dread the difference time draws
in a day trying to hear careless passing
as it treats each moment like the next

just another happening no longer lasting
only a second, a minute, an hour, a life-
time behind your mind suspended inevitably

encrypted: fragments cast into the turning
tides of the sea where uncertain is recovery
grasping severed pieces being stolen away

Oh time what use have you but for us to forget
and so you are forever indifferent to all
the pining and pounding as we dare to salvage

our wants in ifs, for this is

what I mean
when I miss.

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