Just one face

Time wrings the beauty out of everything -

the morning now just shattered shards of light,

the depth of darkness sucked off from the night,

the moon crushed, forlorn, like a crumpled mothwing.

The road’s shell shocked, the world’s a drunken camp,

the heart of workdays stifling, oppressive,

the weekends frazzled with no rest to give,

the days hamster wheels, the sun a rubber stamp.

Just one face in the crowd means breathe and dream;

just one glance, one word can forge a connect.

Just one face missing and decades are wrecked

and years become an angsty high-pitched scream.

We either speak too soon or speak too late;

the chance knocks once and does not know to wait.