Original: Making Time (2012)

Posted a day ahead of the usual end-of-month schedule so as not to disrupt the Sunday Who Review.  Given the subject of today's poem, it feels appropriate.

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Making Time

 

If I could make time,

I’d start small,

Fashioning seconds by hand.

Once I’d formed enough moments

To string into minutes,

I’d lay them under my pillow

So I could catch

A bit of extra sleep at night.

Of course, an hour

Is really the shortest length

Of marketable time,

So I’ve have to expand

Before long.

I’d carve careful hours

To be bought by overworked friends

Looking to hang on

To the weekend

A little longer.

Soon, I’d have myself

A bustling little time-maker’s shop

With entire rows

Of summer afternoons,

A 2-for-1 rack

Of lost Daylight Saving’s hours,

And a glass case

Full of golden years

Polished to a good-old-days gleam.