Poetry
Days
A poem about time
bike wheel, in its cycles, Time just ticks away, as the calendar marks the days, the months, and the years.
wheel steadfast, unyielding, unabashed by friction and heating, its position in space, fleeting, lurches on and on and on
spinning and spinning and spinning, the yarn of time, forming, as the threads of seconds combine into a darn composed of written history
the patchwork endless, full of revisions and retrospective visits, running within the bike wheel, in the opposite direction editing out parts, at their discretion, without a wisp of communal discussion.
impartial as the wheel may be, however, time reveals all
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