An amount given;
never known how much.
Always wishing for more,
never given extra.
Wishing and hoping;
ever going away while we wait.
Like savings deposited
no real interest profited.
We gain financial freedom by our spending of it.
a worth that holds no value like it.
In a moment, at the end, we wonder:
— Was it exchanged properly?
Forever chasing the spending of the past;
never living in the minutes we still have.
Wisdom from those who spent before us
upon deaf ears, we assume we will be different.
Only in this chance, the Time we have left,
can we truly appreciate the power we do not respect:
Until the clock stops.
YOU ARE READING
Time
PoetryThis poem was inspired by Charles Bukowski's poem "Cold Summer'. It is taking the same observational perspective of the time we have left. The thing that is more precious than gold or any other monetary value we place on physical items. Time is some...
