What time is it?
Time is a noun,
But not a person,
Or place.

What's the time?
Look at the arrows,
Up and down,
Left and right,
Spinning all around.

I've got enough time,
But I can't hold it,
Feel it,
Or use it for anything,
I just waste it.

You've got to much time,
On your hands,
And you do weird things,
I do too,
But I never have enough.

I'll give you some time,
But I need the report by monday,
But you can't hand it over,
You can't control when time is up,
You can't play father time,
You can barely fix a clock.

You can't take too much time,
It just doesn't work,
No one's got it in the first place,
So you can't take it,
If it's not even there.

And time is our imagination,
A pattern in the day,
The revolution of the earth,
The space we have to play.

Time is an invention,
A spinning shadow,
And we use it to judge,
When we get chances,
Then the second,
And when we've had enough,
The clock
Strikes
"Give up".

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...