by Eric C. Smith
(©2000, Eric C. Smith)

Another second ticks by,
I lost it like the last.
I'll catch the next one,
I swear it won't slip past.
I save them in a jar,
Not filled one up yet.
It sits in the cubboard,
Beside the stoneware set.
Place settings for eight,
A week's worth of dishes.
Its rude company
For a jar full of wishes.
And here while I wait,
Yet another slips by.
Rude little seconds,
Not stopping to say hi.

This Site maitained by Eric C. Smith and Blackroot Ent.
All contents of this site are © Eric C. Smith, 1999, except for the poetry contained herein, which copyright is held by the original author. All poetry published on this site is published by permision of the original author.
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