Time Turned When In His Bed He Slept Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

Time turned when in his bed he slept,
Time passed when he was in the dark,
And with open eyes he now accepts
That to the past he must not hark.
All the little steps, and the rock he took,
To climb the highest mountain steep,
Have been abandoned and forsook
With no harvest left to reach or reap.
So facing out the gloaming days,
No fewer than behind him lies,
The vultures with his liver play
While counting down each day that dies.