Tuesday, May 24, 2016

4:23

There is both something flattened and ideal
About a sunny lazy afternoon
The brief irruptions of life's movement feel
As mayflies living fast but dying soon
Leaving the statues of the rest of us
To marvel marbly at their sudden sweeps
Wondering why they choose to make a fuss
And opting otherwise. Our slow time keeps
It's insubstantial ticking soft and low
So we can half forget it ever does
And in forgetting nearly make it so
Since time unnoticed hardly even was.
So lazy days pass by immobily
As if we could not act but simply be.