Poem by Bill Vigar
Do you have the time? A question asked
Of time that sits your wrist.
It’s not mine to give away,
Do I, would it be missed?
Half a jif’- no half a mo’,
This is a moment out of time.
Should you choose to read just this
That moment wiped by rhyme.
In a sec’ and in a min’,
The way that time is measured.
The casual way those words are said
Means time is rarely treasured.
Give up your time, you may be urged,
But with your neighbour shared.
That time is not all yours to give
Even if he cared.
I haven’t got the time,
An oft-repeated cry.
How do you know, where is it kept,
Can you put it by?
We should be there, just in time,
Position most considered.
Would out of time be quite so bad
If you ever-so-slightly dithered?
Within the hour – a promise made
But e’er so seldom kept.
Your hours are longer than all mine,
Frustration often wept.
I’ll wrap it up, I’ll finish now,
This rhyme is not a trick.
I won’t be long, I’m nearly done,
I’m with you in a tick.
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