Poem: Time


Mandibelle16

I tried to measure out the day. Spread my time as it were equally. But time doesn’t stretch easily. It appears and then disappears in moments. There are seconds ticking by.

Some of them are meaningful and some of them are small and incidental. You never know the meaning of each second.

You can’t stretch time backwards; you can only move on. Until you sit in bed at night and realize the whole day is gone.

What tomorrow brings is a mystery that enfolds? What if something unexpected occurred? What if the day wasn’t usual at all.

And you can’t stop time either, although sometimes you can get stuck in a moment and it feels like time stood still.

Moments and memories, clippings from the magazine of life and stories spread across the wall. Taped and cut hastily, with little bits of memoriabilia here and there.

A movie ticket here…

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