Threads of smoke

Only in a thread of smoke,
The fleeting signal of a wick
Snuffed out and crying.

Only in the raindrop
Passing through a light
At midnight when it screams
A golden au revior to those
Of us who choose to look away.

Only when the terminating
Grain of sand passes through
A bottleneck, at the apogee of
Second hands that celebrate at once
The here and gone.

Only in the drop of dew
At rest upon a blade of grass,
Made gorgeous by the glint of
Sun that kisses and then kills it.

Only in an hour’s name,
The calling of a day,
The rest of time strung out
Like so much thread to help
Us all retrace the funeral parade.

Only in the meager scent of flowers
Dried and crumbling,
A potpourri of good intentions
Gone astray and erring
On the side of days
Crossed out.

Only on the pages of a calendar
Tacked on a fallen wall,
A sundial under overcast reflections,
Will I ever see what time I really have.

#london #england #uk

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