Poems From Abandoned Pages

[buckobill]

What a time to think in ryhme
A rhyme for passing the time

Time to work and Time to play
Time to separate the day
Into portions Into space
Into thoughts and written grace

The morning is a time to greet
The day a time for weary feet
The night is for the gentle light
That fights the leering white

The light the lamp
The white the sun
How better to be underdone?

For each time while lying at night
Dreams give way to sight
The sun always then stamps an end
On what I seek to comprehend