Killing Time

Killing Time

Time stretches out long past defining.
Clocks, dials, and sands run out

as Winter’s sun is bit by bit declining.

With dwindling work-years waning,
love and death lie in their beds alone,
life’s force now slowly draining.

Time takes in trade a man’s toolbox
then in turn presents to him with ceremony
a futile golden watch.

Each and every second counted;
each moment left to sit; a vacant stare

until such time as death can be surmounted.


Lindsay Riggs Brown