Where did it go?

Jane Dougherty Writes

For the OctPoWriMo prompt—time. A serpent’s tail poem.

Where did it go, the time,


tasted too often the same things.

Springs sprang and ran away,

days died with the sun.

Done the nights of bright and gaudy,

tawdry pleasure,

measure now the loss,

dross we gathered, saved,

slaved, craving  eternity,

we found only midnight’s neon glare.

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