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

called home.

There’s a hat for every season

as long as the pockets are full.




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