Time Passing

May 27, 2009
By
More by this author
The sweetness of the bygone hour
Is seldom rivaled by any future or any present
In its perfection it is saved, stowed away
A sustaining bit of nourishment for times of suffering.
For weary days hold within them weary hours.
Weary hours fight for length with unprecedented force, a refusal to give way to happier ones.
Days, Weeks can pass that drag on endlessly but leave no memories.
This is not vacation, not boredom, but a sickness, a disease that eats away at Time and its spenders.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback