Time

Time floats on a sea of quicksilver

From a land; a parcel, a piece, a sliver

From a stream like an uncharted river

Meandering majestically in its path

From its virgin place of birth

Sea-bound or wherever it must berth

Unknown destinations to skip

Sometimes thru fields of grey on its trip

Gurgle unfrozen in film and microchip

Through the mist of fog's fear grip

To strike a storm-tossed rudderless ship

Into the embrace of an ocean currents rip

Softly it lands in benign complications

From flimsy wires of our dedications

That gives feasts of ecstasies or meditations

A carnival of daydreams or ataxies from medications

It sings and choruses through our doors

To drive they who are queasy to the dance floors

When finally self-assured at rest, it glots

In fields of hibiscuses and roses, it gloats

And lilies and boats of hyacinths and hopes

Like a colored butterfly, it glides, perches, and floats

Birds twitter and chirp chords to their melodies

Time runs swiftly and quietly with prosodies and parodies