The Timer: poem by Heather Whitley Gibson

Timer By Two Hundredths

Timer By Two Hundredths (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A crying wolf is howling,

 alone and never knowing

 whispered words help those

 who are lost days laid out

 and answers piled, lullaby’s for a child

 spoken amen is spoken soft
wars…        go on { with memories},

 secret notes inside ( the binder blinded eyes) that start to see,

 time moves slowly

when you watch the timer
time is neatly traveling, emotions are unraveling shot rings out

and then it falls the prey

 the youth has begun running wild,

 underdog has won the title, all the words that older people say.

 all the people in the pews, receive the preacher’s godly news.

 all hearing is focused on the timer
hands on the clock will never stop.

 the timer sets off the alarm the sun removes it’s rays,

 the clouds move in right before the storm
one man will become the loser and one man will become the finder,

 no one is alerted

 because no one took the time to set the timer

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