By Edd B. Jennings
Some people believe in time.
They see their lives
With a distinct past, present, and future.
They would posit
The past is gone, the future is not here.
The time you can hold and touch is now.
If they can’t have the moment,
They mean to take the illusion.
They may be right.
I’m not wrapped that tight.
It may be a mental disorder
For all I know,
But I don’t find time simple.
I have no will to try.
If the past is gone,
A love could be lost.
I couldn’t bear it.
A gesture, a scent, is forever.
Edd B. Jennings runs cattle along the New River in the mountains of Virginia.
hey thanks for liking my blog..!
you’ve got some beautiful content here….will drop by again! thanks!
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Very enjoyable.
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I enjoyed your poem. Lots of time to create while out there with your cattle on the range!
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Beautiful and thought-provoking about time’s meaning for each of us…
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