One question

Floating freely

Through thoughts scrambled, tousled, archived

 

Like the thud against the wall

Nearly silent.

But always there. Whispering.

 

“Your time, it’s getting closer to the end.:

 

Most days it’s ignored.

Most days are filled

With errands, work, play, sleep

 

I don’t think about you.

 

When I least expect it, you sneak, you creep

And someday you’ll spring.

 

You will catch me in your net.

 

Till then I forget or I will pretend to forget

That your truth exists

That you will win in the end.

 

You always win in the end.

 

Copyright 2014 T.L. Burton