I could never keep track of
the time;
hold the face of the clock in
my mind.
Each morning at work I
was late;
and home as the sun set I
was late.
To rest in my late years I
was late;
the creeping sleep that came
was late.
The sneaking shadow and
the dark
that come so early for some;
not me.
That frailty and age was ever
so late,
but now it is here, and I
am late.