Lost Time

I randomly wrote this one day, and it kinda scared me that I wrote it. About a man who just sits on his porch.

That with no name says again the words I've memorized,
"Because, you will sit there each day until you die."
  12)                      

Dusk returns, I should return inside.11)                          1) All I do is sit on the front porch each day,
Before I do, I ask again, "Why?"                               What do I think about? Who would care the most?
                                       

For all of this time I have, yet don't use, is wasteful,10) 2)I think of nothing, yet everything at once,
Sitting, sinning, wasting and losing time everyday.              But mostly, I think of the time that is lost.
    Lost time
If those busy lives, with no time to spare,9)              3)Why do I sit on the porch, with all of this time?
Are sinning, then I am sinning more than they.   I ask myself, and am answered by that with no name.

                    

Busy lives, looking straight, missing nature's beauty,8)          4)When I am off to bed, I ask yet again,
They don't see me, and all I do is stare.                                                  But the answer stays the same.

  I see things go by, my vision catches all.7)                                  5)In my lack of spending time wisely,
 People pass me, everyday, without a single care,                     You'd think my senses would be dense.

               6)

Instead, I feel, hear, taste the air and everything else
Being sharpened of every sense.

Author's Note

Read from the 1) to the 12). It's in the shape of a clock. Kinda.

Reviews

[Rachel Cooper]

I love this poem. It's so beautifully written. The idea of a clock is simply genius!

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

You must have put a lost of time and thought into the creating of this poem. A job well done. It kindof reminds me of someone I know. Thank you for sharing. Debileah