Booking Between Times Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Alive with the knowing tenderness of sorrow, playing a tune
of death, tomorrow.

Standing in lengthening shadows of evening, barricading
laughter from coming close, forever.

Booking between long times through knowledge, fallen from
shelves of ageless time.

Begotten totally from future pasts, titled into books,
bound by human tears.

Forever yearning for riches of kings, being content with
little or nothing instead.

Reading words into minds which never think beyond what lies
ahead in the next few hours.

Solidly ticking away all of nature's lawful hopes,
running into the forests of tangled webs, stranded always,
forever dead.