The Old Hour Poem by Gulliver Gimble

The old hour has come and now is gone.
Simple minutes tossed and thrown.
Planting the future, seconds are sown.
Watch as another hour has grown.

The old hour was filled wondering why?
Almost selfish when one cannot cry.
Or begin to remember and even try.
Just how old were those soft drawn eyes?

The old hour has brought many long tears.
No selfish thinking of others growing fears.
This life machine now grinds me in gears.
One more thought of lost wondering years.

The old hour again has come back around.
I've been here before upon memories frown.
Listening to the 1: 15 rolling into this town.
Counting the times he lays the horn down.

The old hour has taunted me at its very best.
Filled with heaviness upon ever waking breath.
So lost in plight on one of lifes biggest test.
A new hour has come as the old one now rest.