Sometimes times wrong,
goes along the line too slow or fast.
leaves no way of verifying present or past.
Cast about for clues
thinking “Is this yesterdays news?”
”Did i give this this day a miss, or is it night?"
How to re embark while sat tight,
completely in the dark.
Your mind wanders to the park
where the old sundial
wiles away redundancy
beneath the shade of fungus stained trees,
placed there ages ago by those
wearing a Sunday best pocket watch
strapped to their chests beneath a cotton picked vest
which they wound round each day.
Will time ever be undone, ticked off,
with no second chance?
Once more we might scan the skies
looking for clues as to what is passing by.