As time slowly marches on

Comes to mind - a song

Which rebounds along

Nerves from a throng



Of plucked strings

Which buzz and ring

With the tune of love

Which comes from above



As I try to define

Rhythms which are mine

Ones which do pound so

In eardrums which glow



With the blush of reason

For 'tis now in season

And I wish so to resolve

Things which are not bold



Such as the ticking of a clock

Which does break silence & so mocks

Me - as it counts down the minutes

Until next - I shall be so in it



The pressures of time schedules

Which are not my thing since school

And the weariness I do now feel

Keeps me from being able to peel



Apart these very many layers

Which prompt me to say prayers

That I will gather the strength

To push myself at arm's length



Away from this breeding ground

Which I so like to be around

For it gives me feelings of pride

As I throw some thoughts aside



And work with only those few

Which fit the mold - not askew  

For only those will now work

Which blend and so do perk



Me right up to the very sound

Of ticking clocks which round

Out this feeling of fullness

Which allows me such richness



In words I shuffle and deal

As I make verses which peel

Away layers of my very soul

And do show all - I'm not old.



- Tristram