Time Whistles



Time is just a whistle of steam in the lonely mountain rain
Falling like a litany of silver voices echoing
Deserter armies of shadows following a battle where losing is won
Time is only a winding river of moments strung together by your thoughts,
Senses growing until grown there is knowing and unknown questions, otherwise
Sometimes is always waiting in a corner of hidden pages seen but seldom read
Where you wonder from the inside out and then the outside in and back again
Time is always turning out to be never quite exactly on the button or the dime
Today is just a new design overlaid upon the same framework as always is
This the reason why we wait in such a hurry in the blurry sharp refrain
For Time is just a whistle in the lonely mountain rain




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2013-11-13 at 12:22

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A thoughtful number from Yhe Salon. As is customary when reading their CW's musings, we at BBP find ourselves on an interesting series of journeys, on this occasion flying over mountains over rivers over writings through the rain. We like particularly the last line for its rhythmic flow. Applause!
2013-11-14