Doug Wilton ≈ running out of time





we’re always talking about time

and the consensus is that there is never enough


(or money, sex, power, love etc.)


meanwhile the crocuses are raising their wee yellow heads

in the brown gardens

and the skunk cabbages are upping their innocent thumbs

in swelling creeks amid the last patches of snow


but we’re running out of time, we have so many deadlines

and if we fail to meet them we’ll miss all the boats, planes, trains

to the party, the war, the last hurrah,

we won’t have children before our biological clocks



everyone who is anyone will be right on time

dressed to the nines, watching the command performance

or grandly sweeping the floor, having arrived

just at that moment in time when the prettiest wench

turned to look for a dancing partner


and we’ll be left to sit beside the other wallflowers

wondering what they’d look like in linens

without those horn-rimmed glasses and bow ties


yes, we’ll be left behind in this vast space reserved

for those who have run out of time


still the planet will timelessly revolve

April will unveil her lovely treasures

but no one will be here to really see them


except me (and maybe you)



One thought on “Doug Wilton ≈ running out of time

  1. daen says:

    like to work my wheels, reading your poem and story….nice that you manage to get time and space, on the same page…..spring is divine…..there goes a thought

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