Losing Time

There's something about that extra hour
that disappears in March only to return sometime later in the year
that causes you to hate it.

It is only until the prodigal returns
that you begin to understand the power it brings.

And with every single day before, after,
you find the sun has moved to a different place,
a place right where your eyes tend to focus
as you commute east to west.

What was morning now is evening,
and we all mindlessly go along
like Benjamin Franklin's ideas could have
fathomed the present world.

Still, rocking in our rhythmic patterns
we tilt the earth's axis to our own likings
to our preference.

The universe does not move for you
it does not return for me.

We only pretend
to borrow and lend
When both banker and customer we.