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Time
This little snippet was, in fact, the first poem I ever wrote...that I remember...and liked. I found it some three years after I wrote it...packed away in a box of crud I would never have gone to were it not for extreme chance.
Time
The passage of time
It burns the soul
It breaks the mind
It makes lives wander
It kills the artist
It wakes the dreamer
It breaks down walls
Does this make waiting a thing of naught?
But the passage of time
Can also be a thing of beauty:
It heals a man's wounds,
It closes gaps,
It opens doors,
It gives the lonely hope,
And it can open the minds of men to countless wonders.
Back to more of my poetry
Want to use this on your page or in a publication? Just send an email to jdsmith@georgefox.edu
(c) Copyright 1997 Joshua Smith. All Rights Reserved.
The contents of this page are the original works of Joshua David Smith, and cannot be reproduced without the permission of the author. Any unlawful reproduction will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.