While Time's been brooming away
the sooty clouds, which
scuttle and whistle like cobwebs,
I've had little Time in my hand
and I've wasted a lot of him
as his hours melt and pool
in delicate rings on my kneecaps,
wasted him with
lazily delirious daydreams of you.
“The sky is so pretty”
and in a way she's right
but it's not as pretty as you.
The sun is peeping between
the gap in the clouds,
like a child peering out
from behind the ugly curtain.
And although she is rather endearing,
I can't help but think of
twisting inky hair
and that charming crease between your eyebrows.