Borrowed Time
by Odin Roark


Pre-sunrise Central Park,
rain and wind,
chorus of zoo residents,
a cacophony of memory’s pastels
swirl about,
beginning to awaken
the jungle’s beauty,
rousing distant mountains of glass and steel,
their windowed lanterns alight.

Yawns of refuse trucks awakening,
parroted screeches of early morning “Taxi!”
storm drenched newspaper blankets,
remaining stuck to benches
holding fast someone’s homeless night,
all but gone, until the next sundown.

Such are the reality previews of the day’s coming attractions
the lucid dreams of experience relived.

Wanting just a little more time.
Just a moment more to be there once more?