Canyon Country, CA
I had a collection of hours
enclosed in a cabinet of days.
The carved glass doors in front
gleamed with a rose-covered haze.
So I couldn't quite see the number,
though it was surely full to the brim,
to take out and spend as I wanted
or throw away on a whim.
After years the doors gaped open
the cabinet hinges grown weak.
Hours fell out and melted away
though I took no note of the leak.
Today I ran to the cabinet,
fully afraid, but wanting to see
my endless collection of hours
lined up waiting for me.
But my cabinet of days was empty
and I know that the thief was I.
Now the good that might have been purchased
was beyond my means to buy.
~*~ Time erases and rewrites all the lines. What remains is the poetry! ~*~