Minutes pass slowly

Minutes pass slowly

The second hand pausing

Between each beat

Stifling a yawn

Remembering summer

Will it ever arrive

Whole weeks go by

Without registering

An interest

As a day becomes

A year

In the blinking of an indicator

On a passing car

Brim full of children

On a school run

As coffee is sipped

At an unstable table

The sun prickling

The skin on an exposed neck

With little or no sunscreen

Reveries billow

Over distant hills

With the regularity

Of stormy Monday’s

On a northern coastline

Tired heads sink

Into feather down pillows

When the day is done

As if nothing

Has ever happened

Whole lives are lived

One piece at a time

Bite sized chunks

Slipping down

Without touching the sides

Only as a few crumbs

Are chased around

An empty plate

Is it realised, too late

The cupboard is bare

With no time to spare

For a restock

Whether life moves

Quickly or runs too slowly

We will never

Stumble upon a proven way

To beat the clock.