“Its matter of time”,

sorrows of grave,

troubles thy mind,

while thy body felt this expense,

from thy head to thy shank.

“She’ll get to know,

I think she might,

might know”.

Puzzles over riddles,

talking nonsense,

while the mirror spoke…

Tic – toc, tic – toc,

time, timekeeper.

Clock, clock ,

palpitating monody.

Wonders runic music of the night.

Tic – toc, tic – toc,

tis runic ditty,

goes on and on,

as thy thoughts surcease.

As thoughts of fore – bemoanèd moan are foregone,

Thoughts for red and yellow become players of the roll.

Each player shall do thy part

for what thou shall strive to mend,

talking nonsense, but keeping fay,

on patience perforce with willful choler meeting.

Rafa G.A.