See The Hours Poem by G. Newton V. Chance

See the hours scurry
like an orgy
of time lapse photography
or the credits of a movie
by Scorsese.

The mirror grows old
but slowly;
dreams crumple in the
twilight of a wrinkle,
ghosts of glass still tinkle,
still glow and twinkle,
now and then,
with remembrance
of fleeting whens
and laughter of long lost friends'
reunions.

Who among the querulous,
the dubious
or the credulous
can trap the insidious
mouse of time.

Copyright ©2011