Somehow we conserve an hour of time
when we turn the clock back an hour,
and then wonder what to do with it.
Is there time to fall in love?
Read the first chapter of a book
we might not have read?
Dare put a poem on a page
and display it on the wall
like a pinned butterfly?
Could we alter time and space
by some act as slight
as daring to think,
and cause a whole new galaxy
to emerge with a thousand planets
like our own?
And on one
an ultimate love be born,
and look to the heavens
to balance a hunger in her heart.
While, at the end of this gratuitous hour,
I go searching for an impossible dream
synchronized with me,
staring into windows catching the shadows
of the hour evaporating in the air
looking for a lost embrace.