Sunday, November 15, 2015

Not tempered

Change comes hard, even when it's written on the calendar.

I am still not tempered
To the evening sky
An hour earlier
Than it should be
Dark and darker
I wait for the hour
To slip back
Where it once was.
I know I am not in charge
Of time
This time or really
Any time.
I keep hoping
For different things
To come to pass.
I do not want to wait.
I am not tempered
To this particular darkness.

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