Unchecked Time

UNCHECKED TIME

My life feels like a bleek winter morning,
waking to merely shallow light.

Lying restfully, anticipating the day ahead,
musing that its early yet.

Too scared to acknowledge my clock’s face,
skyward hands shout its noon.

Life skipped past with callous speed unchecked,
resting has absorbed me.

I'll carry on, perhaps yet theres time enough,
afternoon’s that promise chance.

Squandered years I see with rearward glance,
the murdered minutes of my days.

Mornings, afternoons, evenings and lost nights,
hours remain that once were days.

Mindful of my fleeting time choices left are two.
Sleeping minutes or living days.



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