I thought of time ‘neath the paling
amber sun wondering about clocks,
about what they are meant to give.
What trouble paints a bystander’s
face? What hour takes and what if
it was too late?
I wondered where had lovers gone
knowing soon white-flowered grass
would be stained with woe—
I wondered if pain had turned into
a cloud, knowing none had heart
to whisper dread out loud—
I sought to lie beneath a questioning
sky, learning time was a cold swirl of
wind, a language which stirs the soul
even after sorrow remains.
Photo credits: Clock of the academie francaise, Paris.
I chose to write about the ‘Great Depression’ in France.
Posted for ‘Camera Flash’ @ Real Toads
and on ‘Poetry Pantry’ @ Poets United