the hour

The hour once again has slipped my grasp. I recall when time was at a premium like an ocean never ending. Now I count the days as a miser would sitting in the corner of my little world as the hours drop one by one into my little bag of life.This early morning finds my coffee cup sitting waiting for me to take a final sip before my day begins. Already the sounds of the awaken earth rumbles outside my door. As the world as I know it presses down on the pedal. Much has changed in the past year. Things that I had always taken for granted have fallen short. Not sure if I thought they would always be there but did think that they would be within my grasp. Though I am far from an exclusive member of that club and the membership grows ever so rapidly.For the most part I, We are to blame for the road that lies before us.All feeding at the trough of greed. While all did not take part most did. Feeding on the plenty disregarding the less fortunate

tears

""tears""

all too often i shed
a
few

felt them run down my cheeks

caused

tears to fall

felt
their pain
tasted
their despair

tears
caused
by
heart

break

tears

caused by
anger

tears
caused
by
ignorance

j Swepston

these words

these words

times on the tip of my tongue
they wait
wait to be spilled
as rain would slide down
a roof of tin

or at the back of the
throat
waiting
to be spit
out
as song
from
bird
that;s
taken wing

in a dark corner
of
my
state of mind

hidden

by


reality
or
as
it
seems

in whispers
that
echo
from
places
moments
times

from heart
break
laughter
wanting

these

words

j Sweptson