Time
Every second is a little day
The morning comes
Rising reveals the light
To guess the time
Is a game to play
It was lost by
Forty-five minutes
Living began in dark mode
The sink is now
An open mouth
About to spit
On an aging face
The mirror turns
The hours to years
Eyes wrinkle
Arms flap
These muscles
We're once able
To fill and work
Without a breeze
The same shirt
The same shorts
Each decision
Makes the day grow
Eyebrows shade
As face skin droops
In half circles
Its another day
As this second
Drags itself to another
Only slower
This time
This measure
This breath
Barry G. Wick
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