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When Is Our Time?


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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