Tempus Cessat

Tempus Cessat

Time is syrup,                   
Neither sweet nor inviting,      
Rather nudgingly grazing,
Soft and prickly,
Rough and tickly,
Never once been amazing.

Time is oil,
Neither slick nor once gripping,
As Rough as liquid gravel,
Charge thee gladly,
Treatment badly,
Swinging a bloody gavel.

Time is fire,
Neither so warm nor healing,
Its lapping tongues do flicker,
Its grins shimmer,
Glass eyes glimmer,
With shivers growing thicker.

Invino Veritas
9/25/13
EOF