The clock of many faces.
Wrinkles stretched from time.
Destiny swims in the eyes and
legacies sweat from hard work.
The silence of seconds push the hands
into the next hour; no song can
comfort the waste of circles within
circles. Dawn and dusk feed on
one another. Children are the second
chance to find a road that works;
the hope to build on, a place
There’s a hat for every season
as long as the pockets are full.