The Head of the Monarch

Awake! At three
o’clock in the morning,
I’m trying to get
my nights and days straight.

There’s six hours difference
twixt Paris and Corning;
A night-light shines on
a watch still not set.

This low dose of no doze
helps to forget;
one hour of regress
won’t help it a bit:

Today will be Paris;
tomorrow is London.
One day with Winston,
then visit the Queen;

a castle in London
that others have seen.
Time is the moment,
where life falls between.

A portrait of some man,
they once called a King;
a smallish large island,
where notions still dream

of life as an ocean,
and time is the stream.
Each one a moment,
in moments that seem.

Time has a way
to separate things,
where lives are but small scales
on concept machines.

A low dose of no doze,
effects what has been;
the lives of all others,
but blips in a stream.

Each one is starlight,
a quick burning gleam;
time but a moment,
starlight the dreams

of many a conscience,
of many a being.
The head of the monarch
falls close to a Queen.

©Marvin Welborn
23 September 2014.

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