Tennessee Fried Poetry

A comprehensive tour of the mind of a burnt out feller living in Tennessee as seen through his poetry.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

If I Could Trap Time in a Bottle

As the sands of time descend,
We are ever closer to the end
Of a love that was preordained
But, in substance, never gained.
She came to me with glowing eyes
Which gave this old bruiser butterflies,
But I never seemed to pick up that scent,
The one that only God could have lent.

If I could trap time in a bottle, I would,
I really would if I knew I could.
It's not everyday under the sun
That I shall meet the chosen one.
I'm the schmuck who just realize his affinity,
For it's too late, she can't last an infinity,
But if I could trap time in a bottle, I'd change fate,
And start things over with a clean slate.

The clock keeps ticking on, so I see,
I know there's a place I should be,
At her door, with red roses in hand,
The finest floral in the land,
To demonstrate to her my love so true,
For her, whose eyes are ocean blue,
And if I did not notice, it would certainily be a crime,
For I would've then wasted more time.

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