Elastic Time Poem by Lyndsey Gillett

The clock turns 11.11,
Most definitely a sign from heaven,
To say take all the time you need,
Speed, haste and those things only matter,
To you or your boss, usually the latter,
But apart from that,
Actually doesn't hold,
Significance, Importance at all,

And I'm pretty sure that is why,
Whenever the clock catches my eye,
The numbers emulate each other,
They make a pattern,
15.51 the clock is basically laughing,
Then just out of earshot,
It whispers, 'I'm elastic, just live your life, don't worry'
Don't look at me,
Leave behind the hurry,
Life is more like a game we play,
Where we should try our best,
One day we wakeup having passed the test,
But the fact it is a dream within a dream,
Changes weights of what things mean,
And time is just one measure which isn't what it seems.