Procrastination: The Thief Of Time For M Lady Catrina Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

The clock ticks inexorably
Each second moves the minute
hand forward infinitesimally.
Or so I’m led to understand.
But I afraid I cant agree.
Sometimes if I should look away
The hands move forward rapidly
Much quicker than the normal way.
What happens to the time that’s passed?
I can’t retrieve in any way.
The present has become the past.
I’ve lost a portion of my day.
I wonder if you’ve noticed too
The sneaky tricks which clocks can do.

18/07/2009
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