TIME TRAVELLER

He maps the margins of time; 

Limitless and endless they seem,

But with each single ticking

He loses a second, then a minute, 

Then his father and mother.

So yesterday is a future 

He longs to see again. 

With a thousand keys

He stands before memories 

Locked out of sight by a clock, 

And writes mysteries in the future,

With hours already lived. 

He treasures each hand 

That holds his limited time, 

Skips and lives before he lives.

He sees his fate and corrects it; 

Perhaps decides on which lover 

To waste his time on. 

A time traveller he is,

With feet polished by three sands 

Of yesterday, today and tomorrow. 

A time traveller he is, 

Counting years by times, not time. 

©1916