Five Minutes

This morning

I saw five minutes

Hiding under the bed

When I could have done

With its help

Time never likes

To be held

An enigma beyond

Our remit

Nor a lender

Let it be understood

Our feeble routines

Superimposed…

As we beg, steal or

Borrow

Rearrange at will

That, which we cannot hold…

Thatcher Doran

Advertisements

About pmisteil

Hi, my name is Paul though I write under other names like, Thatcher and Paolo, I love literature, art and architecture their passion and drama....the contradictions. The notion of Truth-who is the person behind the mask? Or does it matter! I like long walks and longer conversations over cappuccinos in a cafe with atmosphere and the rest is a journey!
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s