Time Poem by Praise Akanni
Time
Time, we dwell with
Yet all go and they come
While our faces scrub with scythe
Till in our Tomb
Lie still.
Time, racing ahead always,
The race we dread.
Zig-zag almost catching rest,
But a palpable illusion to the mind.
Lying cozy on a mat resting over a pit.
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5/20/2024 5:11:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
