Guest
When days fall down like dragonflies From pale-faced pages of a calendar, When months are chained to each other Like leaves on your life's tree When coiled spring in your clock Swings its axe across your rope Then the past slowly loses its meaning And the present lies prone at your feet Pedestal, meaningless and empty Waits for a consecration of another idol And the steady statue collapses As always, time is taking its toll
