when Time met time

time – it seems timeless –
of clocks slowly ticking by,
minute by minute – the monotonous life,
it plods along at the tortoise’s pace –
the legends run their riverbanks dry
and worn pages absorbed into glowing screens,
still, Time sees nothing but the clock,
ticking away past sunsets and sunrises –
the same day disappears, over and over again –

till Time meets time in the mirror,
where raven locks ran smooth
and red lips left bright kisses
– the beauty of beauty –
scraggly white hair remained,
rivulets of tears ran down bruised bags
beneath faded and dazed eyes,
with chapped lips, blood running
along crevasses of dried skin…

and so Time fell to her knees
and begged for more time.

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