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  • Writer's pictureSimon

Garden of Time

Updated: Apr 23, 2020

I did some freeflow writing today and eventually wound up writing about a "tidsblomst", or time flower. It intrigued me and I managed to follow the traces of my pencil to something like a little poem.

Where minutes grow and seconds fall

on the earth that does not know

All the curiosity, flowing from my eyes 

into the pots and beds with seeds tucked in so neatly

In blankets of soil warmed by the sun

She never fails to send her gentle arms even through the thickest mist.

What about these hours hanging on the tree, so round and delicious?

What shall I make of them?

I decide to take a bite and and then let the rest

Ripen into somber thoughts of dark red and brown

Days uncountable soak up the rain and applaud

the wind that swiftly strokes the gentle weeks

making them bristle ever so slightly.

Strong months hold me steady when I climb the years

to fasten the swing for the children to come.

As a pendulum for their own time.

I lean myself against decades facing south

It feels as if they were never going to leave

They will be here at my return

As often as this might be.

And I am content when I see them in the magnificent storms of life

from my little hut in the middle of the garden of time.


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