Poetry

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Though i be in print,how time is spent;who paid the rent,any time
is overtime,not made by man yet shows who ran,time can be an
instant measure or a treasure;nowt to do with leisure or pleasure,
more to do with life's own fissure,it questions everything i see,
and instantly looks back at me;for some a glance at life's own
chance,it binds unwinds and gives all the signs,where Man can't go
time's never slow,would like to know how time do flow;forgive my cheek or selfish streak,also how weak;from speck of dust and
bread's own crust,GOD SHOWS WHAT'S MUST,why time won't burst,am
not the first;GOD knows what's last,when time is past GOD knows it
best,and gives us rest,time is no jest.
Joe.

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