When I tried to put time in my pocket
It oxidized and then “poof” disappeared.
I put more in a bag and zip-locked it.
Returning, I saw the contents were cleared.
What happens to time that I try to save?
Eluding my grasp as hard as I try.
Why does it sneak up and make me its slave
But then leave me without saying “good-bye”?
See my distress; I have had no success.
May I please just keep some time for later?
I have to confess: I would be so blessed.
You may call me a procrastinator.By Cheryl Crockett November 2, 2012
OctPoWriMo Day 18
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