Telling Time

I spend my days

telling the time

to speed

stop

or slow

its hourly chime.

When moments collide

I tell it to stall,

so my mind

can remember --

retrace

recall --

days when the time

just filled empty spaces,

breaking silence

with tick-tocks

from old wooden faces.

But after a lifetime

requesting delays,

interludes

pauses

and protracted days,

I realize in hours

leisured

or hasted

that talking with time

is time being wasted.