Time's ticking beating rhyme
Up-tempo crescendos then soft and slow
Lines with repeat signs
As we play its music we spin
A song
That deafens
Time is a weapon
At war with memory
Blurring eyesight
And vision
No simple melody
For both young and old
Few sounds scathe
Like the last moments of wait
Before the fire of disappointment
After expectations unmet
And overdue
Put on hold
A perfect storm
But the audience's encore
Punctuates the last notes
Of a familiar tune
As time ends every season
Lee Burke González
Hardware, 2018
Acrylic on wood