by Timothy W. Crawford

I can give you attention
like the scent of loves water,
meanwhile time grows shorter

What else makes this moment the right place?
Simply, being in my grace is difficult to replace
erase that game he sent you by way of fronts and grunts
allow me to explain wants
avoid tricks and explain stunts

Listen, I've stepped over traps and ambushes
by many lookers
I catch you trippin, slippin into words
tossing mad vowels,
overflowing and strolling for miles.
admire the class of my style
and I'll kidnap your frown.

I can give you high laughs,
deep thoughts, supportive hands.
Patience....a virtue?
depends who you talk to.

Send me messages of how I touch the inner door,
leave the seashells by the shore, games...no more
I'm not telling you anything new
this story's been retold by more than a few

Time you can take, but time can never be given
by another person,
i am the director and actors and actresses are the
ones needing rehearsin'

To catch a lion, without tryin'
is like liquid platinum
far too witty, far too city
to allow hunters to trap him

...I can tear you down on one side
and on the other side delicately build you up.
I got more than you want,
but as for time not nearly enough.

Time by Timothy W. Crawford

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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