HOURS

HOURS

In spite of or rather because of
A boundless imagination bequeathed by my forebears

Leaping and skimming over life's incidents and accidents
Waiting and patience are not only virtues

In spite of or rather because of a certain sentience
That begins but doesn't complete the sentence

Phrases are like life; sometimes broken
At times unfinished and often unspoken

And these hours dribbling and dragging on, forever on
From the very beginning, the moment one is born.

When the end comes, alone in a foreign land
The hours will stop and nobody needs to understand.

Copyrght: Rani Turton