Currently translating my life into poetry…

Too Much Time

Streams of days handed to me raw
no schedules or plans or commitments
vast hours stretching out for months
it’s the most deceptive sort of time

I putter more than I should
how wild the way a day can gallop
as minutes scamper into corners
out of reach of best intentions

It’s evening now, another week gone
the last of a year of open time
I am trying to count on my fingers
all the circles I’ve run
while I tried to fill the hours.

 

POEM: © Iz Mazano
PICTURE: Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Next Post

Previous Post

Leave a Reply

avatar
  Subscribe  
Notify of

© 2020 The Words of Iz Mazano

Theme by Anders Norén

error: Content is protected !!