186,282 and a bit per second

At the speed of light the need for light is redundant.

a flash of inspiration just to ease the darkness of my situation and I am vacant in the columns that march on Gaul.

So much passes, past and what time is it now?
am I nearly there?
should I wear a suit, a shirt and tie or why would I?

take me
as you find me
and tell me
where
I am.

poetry about roses smelling sweet
and
what street are they on?
not
my one,
but someone
says
they are
and I am
as you found me.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.