The whiff of talk goes by the name Of sun. Sun devours ghost of yesterday's Noon. Noon meant well at half past, then It was time. Time to play, Play as rat holes will allow You. You cannot mind the warp of time As it sinks, sings, figures out what time It is. Is.
Beautiful poetry! So happy I came across your blog; I’m looking forward to reading more! 🙂
Thank you, and I am glad that you enjoyed it 🙂