If Time Were a Slow Thing
If time were a slow thing
a snake shedding skins,
a lizard gradually wakening
to its life in the sunlight;
if it were a red bus
dawdling through
congested London streets,
or the backward swish of a cat's tail
just before it pounces,
then we could paint moments,
or translate what each instant meant,
build galleries for stopped clocks
but they would not be clocks
they would be faces, stopped faces.
Then again If time sped away faster
than the universe expands
love would be impossible;
passion and kismet
being the conjunctions
of timeless moments.
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