I have this problem
with time.
It's always running out on me,
like it has a pressing appointment
elsewhere
with someone
far more important than
little old me.
Someone, apparently,
who can give it
better gifts and prettier clothes,
perhaps a baker's dozen roses
for good measure.
Leaving me
always trying to hold on
to those fast disappearing
coattails of time,
promising it more and more
that I can't give.
(originally posted May 28, 2009)
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