Monday, 10 May 2010

The Time Seller

The Time Seller

I am the time seller, sir

filling in for Father Time.

Think you'd like some spare time, sir?

Care to buy some wares of mine?

I can box you up some minutes, sir,

Or bottle you some hours,

You can take it all home with you sir,

Before the April Showers.

I know the spring is sunny, sir,

but summer will be cold.

My last client bought June's weather, sir,

You know, she's getting old.

I offered her a box of weeks,

to get her on till June,

but with a smile she says to me,

she knows her time's done soon.

Time is nothing to buy, she said,

and gave me another wink.

We all run out of it, she said,

and sir, that made me think.

You come to buy some time from me,

And I thank you for your time.

Just how did that all come to be?

Your time now was mine

It's a sad story, truth be told,

to see the timeless die.

And often they weren't all that old,

which makes me wonder why.

Why didn't they buy these things of mine?

I'm not listed in the book.

But I'm a salesman, not hard to find,

If you know how to look.

I'm friends with the girl you never called,

In that dance you couldn't dance,

In all the memores you never recall,

On that one-way flight to France.

I'm in that walk you never made,

In the pictures you never took,

I'm waiting in that summer shade,

Tasting the food you never cooked.

I stay away from drinks and highs.

They 'waste' me, so to speak

And waste is all they do to time,

Splurge hours, days, and weeks.

Where did all the time go, sir?

There's more in the back room.

You don't have any money, sir?

Don't run away so soon.

We cannot take your money, sir

We can never touch that stuff.

Neither gold nor cash do we prefer.

It could never be enough.

I am the time seller, sir

Filling in for Father Time

Think you'd like some spare time, sir?

Care to buy some wares of mine?


Alesa Warcan said...

This is a lovely piece...

It reminds me of a short story by Marcel Aymé where everything was rationed, including time... And its story of the love between a rich woman and poor guy, and how the poor guy runs out of time tickets so he has to stop existing until the next month...
Thanks for sharing that!

Robin said...

I love this, Bethany. It reminds me of last summer, when all I could think about was making it through the year so maybe you'd come home and time wouldn't have changed us at all. Thank you so much for posting! I miss your poetry and how it puts mine in its place. =]

Creepy Query Girl said...

Good stuff! I always admire people who can write poetry. Cause I pretty much suck at it.