Time for one more

We fritter time away
and flitter to flurry by
like a butterfly
once a flutterby
to the end of the day

what does it all mean?

The toll of the bell
wish,
are you well?
how are the folks?

We
like spokes in a wheel
go
round and round
’til we feel
better
fitter
flitter
butterfly
flutterby
at the end of the day.

When you’re nearing the end and there’s no going back and start tidying up what you carry on your back where the memories are stacked like old masters against
a studio wall
the paint still drips
time still slips
slowly away
at the end of the day.

In the morning when the spots where still fresh
and we joined up the dots to see what came next
seems a long way away.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.