Time
I've seen him before,
A thousand times before.
He sits and listens
And watches
And waits
Like the old men sitting on park benches.
His moods are of the seasons,
Knocking on doors,
Ringing on bells,
Laughing at those too lazy to listen.
Anxious fear in darkness
With blinking red lights,
Screaming out the doctrine
Of the hold tight policy.
© 1986 Thomas A. Ekkens
This poem is from Collected Poetry of Thomas A. Ekkens—Early Works.