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Spending Time
There are times when I think that we spend our time —
Trying to carve out of others the image we long for.
The missing pieces of our lives, we need, love, or desire;
Only in the end to find a series of doors.
Do not seek the keys to the locks,
In love, there is no because — no reason.
Would we want an easy explanation?
Each time in our life has its season;
Nothing more than a dream,
Or flights of fancy we choose to pursue.
If time is taken to hear our hearts,
There would be much less time to lose.
Observe just the images passing by,
Give and take, pain and pleasure, make love to;
Would you make me scream?
What sounds ache to come through?
Capture the mind, the soul follows…
Mold and push for pieces of ecstasy?
Take inspiration and happiness from within,
A closet of darkness filled with fantasy.
For who is to know, under our secret grin?
What goes on in our thoughts, in our minds,
Other than what we see beyond the translucent world.
Surely, something distant, beyond the clutter of signs.
© Lenore T. Rose 2021
