Pat Bordner
Pat Bordner Poems
Leisurely, I enter dad's repair room.
Placing me in the hands of time.
Antique clocks of many styles.
Springs, gears, and parts about. Clocks bold that go bong, bong.
...
Peaceful radiance of a beautiful morn.
The giantress stands on her tiny island,
over looking New York Harbor.
Carrying a torch for friendship, freedom, and hope.
...
Crisp winter wind tugging at my coat,
slowly numbing my face.
The sun shinning across the skating rink,
surrounded by banks of snow.
...
The Best Poem Of Pat Bordner
Hands Of Time
Leisurely, I enter dad's repair room.
Placing me in the hands of time.
Antique clocks of many styles.
Springs, gears, and parts about. Clocks bold that go bong, bong.
Softer pieces that ping, ping.
Westminster chimes play a tune.
One that dares to call me cuckoo. Faces with Arabic or Roman numerals.
Bordered by designs or flowers.
Pendulums swinging to and fro.
Ticking, clicking, and tapping. Hands moving slowly measuring,
the minutes and hours.
Guiding my pace, life's moments.
Directed by the hands of time.
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5/14/2024 10:08:53 AM # 1.0.0.1119
