Thirty Seconds

The hours pass like prisoners in shackles,
And I plod with them, condemned. I
Know where we must go: to see my love
For thirty seconds, feel again the iron
Chains on both of us, and understand
That love can be a feeble thing, that
Laws and customs, minds which will
Not falter when affected by its charms,
Can overpower it. My own has not,
But hers still does, and, thus, I have but
Thirty seconds with which to be close
To her before I move on with the hours,
Plodding and condemned.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 51 times
Written on 2015-03-20 at 22:02

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