It Is Time Poem by Joan Xie

It is time.

Time for winds to flutter a flag.
Time for grass to repossess the grassless land.
Time for barn by crushed by the last straw.

(Horse on the prairie.
Wolves on the summit.
Men on the road.)

It is time.

Time for grapes turns to wine.
Time for breasts is held by a hand from a dream.
Time for lifeless hearts to let lose their grip on you.

(Flowers In the mirror.
Seas in the bottle.
Silence in the deep sky.)

It is time.

Time for autumn to dye staircases crimson.
Time for birds to migrate to the south.
Time for promenade alone is wandered by a verse.
Time for you and me to embrace and say goodbye.

It is time.