Saturday School

Time is a child.

The day starts young

Then dies with you

slowly,

with each blink.


Wakes up again

the next day—

Rosy-cheeked,

Golden-eyed.


The tender fingers of dawn

toy with the clouds,

break them,

reach out,

grow stronger,

and strangle the sun at the end of

the set twenty-four hours of time.

(A day.)


Sunsets are deaths

(graceful ones).


Sunrise is a birth

(quieter than they should be.

Possibly of the unwanted child).

Comments

  1. PinkuApril 8, 2025 at 8:47 PM

    The lines are playful and yet so powerful. Keep writing!!

    ReplyDelete

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