Without
Time was set for, sharp eight.
Location parking lot.
I woke up
Shaved, showered, did what must,
Breakfast was a part.
At ten to, I was down
No news; so I called
No reply
I tried times and times.
Bill had called, late at night
Things had changed
Must inform my friends
Share, exchange.
No reply,
Silence was an old night
In desert
Pitch black with fear.
No contact for hours…meant a hell…
Couldn’t talk of tire’s problem.
And our host too busy, unaware
We’d be late.
I recall the old days
On horseback, and on way
Taking chance
Prepared for no, yes.
I wish I could dip me into time
Live Cossack, chevalier, or Ayyar.
What is this time and watch?
What the hell…punctual?
Best being is without.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem