Author’s Note: This poem was published in Visual Verse as a part of a picture article submission. The picture is not owned by me and all rights reserved to Visual Verse and The Curved House. You can find my post here

 

It is morning,

You open your eyes,

It’s just another day,

Just another time,

Time to spend,

Doing whatever needs done,

Just another day,

In the box around you.

Mornings are but a facet,

Of the one day life,

Three quarters remain,

Something might change.

 

It is afternoon,

You’ve kept down the spoon,

Still inside the cocoon,

Many things to do;

Yet nothing you’d done,

Lives to save,

Money to make,

Pictures to be drawn,

Stories to be written,

Webs to be spun,

Life to be won,

It dawns on you,

The day has but begun,

There is time.

 

 

Afternoons are but a facet,

Of the one day life,

A half still remains,

Something might change.

 

It is evening,

Your feet spring,

Into action,

The haste of it,

Things need to be done,

Things need changing,

Webs need spinning,

Stories need writing,

Lives need saving,

Battles need winning,

Your cocoons burst,

For time you lust,

Your hand moves fast,

You’ve thrown away the cast,

The ticking clock,

Alas waits for none.

 

Evening, but a facet when the day wanes,

Like a candle against the wind,

You’re not done,

But there is time.

 

The moon’s come out,

Your mind grows doubt,

Have I done it all?

How can I stall?

Things I have to do,

Life I have to live,

 

People I need to meet,

This can’t be all,

But the clock ticks on,

It waits for none,

 

Nights are but a facet,

You’ll live on,

Tomorrow will come,

When one day dies,

Another comes alive,

For every waning moon,

There is a sun,

But be ready to grasp it,

When it comes,

‘cause in a life this fast,

It just could be your last.