Time
Time is like a winter’s breeze,
It slaps and does tease,
Some smile as it splashes by,
Some scream,
But when so many
Wink at you and me,
Its then we realize,
How time does flee,
Past you and the sea,

Then time’s gone,
Like a passer by,
Where it came from
To where it doth fly,
No one can say,
Neither Omar Khayyam
Nor the Loved of all poets,
That’s me,
A narcissistic prosaic of poetic poverty,
Kingship of rhyme
As one hopes to be