Time on my shoulder
Time sits on my shoulder
implacable
Time looks at me in the mirror
measures me as I walk
Time rides my breath
inhaling exhaling
Time condenses
with the early morning mist
swirling on the roadway
Time rises with the thermals
of heated air in the fields
flying to the setting sun
Time cycles the seasons
of the years' progression
From whence to when?
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poem by Tom Berman
Added by Poetry Lover
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