Now

it’s not for me to say
when my sun shall set
in your heart
it’s a clock’s job
God is checking it out on his wall
and pushes the mary-go-round of time
with his finger
sipping seconds and months
from the cup of eternity

I’m lucky
on my wall there are no clocks
no paintings
no posters
or pictures of you
but a long list
of people I’d rather be
right now