Time. My Friend.

Around my eyes a lurid glow.
Time, my friend, has sewn seconds in,
stitched the beat of my blood
in sallow inks to feed my skin.

Do my veins begin to grow? 
My arteries contort and unfold?
Have I time to write this down?
How my heart has heard a halo's sound.

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed