Another Time

 

I have a few moments

within the few minutes

I have.

 

To write something

that sounds like I’ve something

worth writing.

 

Within the few seconds

of the seconds I have,

to the second.

 

An epitaph, or eulogy perhaps,

for the thing I wanted to write,

but didn’t have time for.

 

As the time spent here,

is time lost there, and lost time

is gone, regardless.

 

To the words I could’ve

written, if time had allowed,

I say, …

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

I guess I didn’t have

anything to really write

after all.