Time stole another day from me this week

Time stole another day from me this week.

   I turned around twice and it disappeared.
It’s like Time’s got a razor that’s so sleek
   I only feel it after I’ve been sheared.
And then sometimes I wake up and the day
   Will flesh out like a light year, and I’ll be
Ambered in moments, lost in the array
   Where fading instants kiss infinity.
Time’s like a weepy alcoholic friend
   Who steals my scotch and then buys me champagne—
A pawnbroker who promises to lend
   Me all, then zip—a door to joy, then pain—
      Who’ll rob and bless me day by day, because
      Time is a thief who's also Santa Claus.



Copyright 2013 Matthew J Wells