Tuesday, July 28, 2015

How long?

That gypsy knows to wipe away
the water from her eyes
and push aside emotion
that caused it so to rise.

And for a time, just a time,
she watches how it moves
not quick and speedy like a fox
but slowly like a snail.

She felt the chill of time
run up and down her spine
and thought perhaps a second
or a minute at the most.

But human time deceptive
and so she thought a day,
perhaps a week, a month,
or a year at the most.   

It matters not, you know,
because gypsies know to push
and push and push again
until emotion disappears.

But too they grow weak and frail
with no strength to make emotion move
and of the tears that pool in eyes
they find their way somehow
into the deep and hidden
there to lie and contemplate
how long, really, really,
is that thing called “time”.

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