in a days

and it’s thursday
already

some day
there won’t be
another thursday

or friday
or monday either

until then
I’ll make what I do
of the days and days

those I have left
and those I don’t

(D. James)

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over before you know it

where does it
go
the time

seems like it
used to crawl

now I lose
track
of the days

and memories
are like stories
someone once told

I’m not even
certain
I’ve not written

this poem
before

(D James)

four day wait

counting the days
until
we are together

this
the last time
we will be separated

seems longer
than all the others

how can twenty years
apart
seem shorter
than
the next four days?

(D. James)

the varying movement of time

how it is
that time
moves
at different speeds

the hours apart
seem as days
days as weeks

then
suddenly
you

in my arms

and the days
seem as hours
hours as minutes

then I am gone
lost in a calendar
of waiting

until
I see you again

(D. James)