Until Next TimeA Poem by John Byrd
Every top of the hour
I just can't help but see you at the top of the tower. The sand in the glass getting lower. Close to the edge I can see your toes hanging off. Sand trickling down Like the time on a grandfather clock. Where's my grandfather now? Passing time. Growing anxious. You get ready to leap. Somebody flipped the hour glass I guess we'll get another chance to meet. © 2015 John Byrd |
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1 Review Added on May 14, 2015 Last Updated on May 14, 2015 AuthorJohn ByrdDetroit, MIAboutJunior at Michigan State University. Hip Hop and poetry are my two favorite things. Childish Gambino is my favorite artist. Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, and Henry David Thoreau are my favorite .. more..Writing
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