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When Is Our Time?
by
Rusty Broadspear
My dear, when is the time?
As time creeps the curve
To destiny.
I see through the eye of a butterfly
Wondering why
Moments extend
Never end
Yet my time is short.
I fly free
And I see
Such discomfort
Then abort.
You admire my hidden beauty
You see what you see
But the beauty beyond
Is a secret with me.
A heart bared
Without defence
As time creeps the curve
Sometimes doesn't make sense
Not what we deserve.
My dear, when is our time?
As time slowly steals,
We swim in a spin and doubt.
Living within wheels
And without
Touch, which means so much.
So answer me this, my dear.
As time creeps the curve
When is our time? Our flower?
When do roads meet
And vinegar sweet?
When, my dear, is our hour?
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