What Time Succumbs To

Left open new Towards the blue Working anew Showing a few Becoming wonder Left to blunder About the yonder Golden to ponder Simple satisfy She is so fly I become alive Though it may die She succumbs To the bums Of life’s hums Enormous scums Freedom elicits Whatever permits Shortwave complicit There’s a deficit Her eyes don’t lie She doesn’t deny I want to cry But cannot scry Left alone She bones Her left scone Now belongs To nothing more Than a shore Of trinkets galore Time takes a snore Russell Sivey