DUSTMEN A Poem about time by Harris Tobias

DUSTMEN Times wagon clatters down the dusty road The rusty matter of my life make up its load Haul it away, the dustmen sing A song for all my hours wasted A lament for all my days long spent The dustmen sling the dented days aboard The wagon sways its springs tormented It wends its plodding way abroad Its contents hauled to that abode Where eroded time lies fermented Up ended, worthless and unknown Like sand, like stone How proigate we are with time We ing our hours out of hand As if we had innity to spend As if our days would never end How worn the well used pieces are The empty husks of hours Sucked of joy like oysters Shucked and let decay Like so much trash in heaps they lay The dustmen smile and cart the shells away Is there nothing I can keep I ask Keep the present The present is the pearl, they say

DustmenAs a song Times wagon clatters down the road The dusty road The rusty matter of my life make up its load Make up its load Haul it away, the dustmen sing A song for all my hours wasted A lament for all my days long spent The time left untasted The dustmen sling the dented days aboard The wagon sways its springs tormented It wends its plodding way abroad Its contents hauled to that abode Where time lies fermented Up ended, worthless and unknown Like sand, like stone How proigate we are with time We ing our hours out of hand As if we had innity to spend As if our days would never end Times wagon clatters down the dusty road The dusty road The rusty matter of my life make up its load Make up its load

How worn the well used pieces are The empty husks of days Sucked of joy like oysters Shucked and let decay Like so much trash in heaps they lay The dustmen smile and cart the shells away Is there nothing I can keep? Keep the present, they reply The present is the pearl, they say Times wagon clatters down the road The dusty road The rusty matter of my life make up its load Make up its load