Hourglass Poem by Helen Crutchett
Hourglass
The past has a habit
like an unwanted mosquito
of invading my peace.
film reels taped clumsily,
not showing the true picture of
the distant past,
the here and now,
the future....
I saw myself in the distance,
having met myself
coming back as a stranger
stone broke my hourglass
with time warped disillusionment,
dashed hopes and what
might have been
Helen Crutchett
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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7/29/2025 9:12:35 PM # 1.0.0
