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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Time Forgot

Yesterday, without a sound,
the wind went away.
There were no feathers on the birds.
My eyes fell asleep
because there was nothing in the air
that would make them open.
A strange calm descended
on a strange chaos.
Even light refused to budge
through the window,
and then I saw a man
who stopped in the middle of the street
and seemed indifferent to the traffic
around him.

And afraid at the odd shape
the world was taking I asked,
why don’t you cross?
What’s going on?
And he frowned and said,
what difference does it make?
His eyes were melting.
I shook my head.
There were too many crossroads to cross.
Then he explained,
I am Time.
Old Man Time,
and I’m tired of counting.
Everything depends on me
and my shoulders ache.
I nodded, stupefied.

But you can’t stop! I blurted.
The silence is terrible!
Things are disappearing.
And he replied, would you count for me?
Give me rest from minutes and hours?
A bell went off and I woke
to an alarm.
My ears rang,
and I heard the wind outside.
Saw the sun blazing through the window,
and shaken,
I fell back on my pillow
and whispered,
thank you for going on.

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