Time is just a heartbeat and crumbling bread,
stop the clocks in their tracks inside your head.
It thins out like coffee smoke as it sits,
there’ll be time if you don’t think too much of it.
Stop the ticks and tocks, turn the lock on countdowns,
shut them up and pack them off out of town
beyond red lines and deadlines and remits -
there’ll be time if you don’t think too much on it.
Time is the weight of a feather and of lead
and pink champagne! - don’t let it get to your head,
it’s a busy port, quiet crossroads, and transit,
there’s enough, just don’t think too much on it.
This is sort of like a mongrel that can't let go its own tail, I can tell you I'd be better off working out some sort of a draft for my A-Z posts instead of writing poetry on time management. But...things happen when they happen...what can one do?
