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Sabrina R. Clarke

Time Traveler

As if time was like Silly Putty,
bend it and shape it, it doesn't matter.

Standing by the diamonds when the rain
of shimmering, shamrock colors came

down, you sang Auld Lang Syne-
sounds so wistful you made me cry.

Atmospheric, that the two of us
were hand in hand, though not nearly close-

but standing static as the old year
fell away before us, we were.

Strange quality of memory, it seems
that every day and every moment, all the same

Kodaks cling to me like lice.
The sad sweet timbre of your voice,

all the amber in the weary sky
the sunset and the moon so silvery-

bleary blue denim, and eyes
dark like December
rewind things to the way they were,
time traveler.