Beginning with a silent morning,
the balance in Time’s account
was almost gone. Each moment
brought a new deposit for saving.

In the afternoon, the account
was almost overflowing.
Extra moments splashed carelessly
over the wicker basket’s edge.

Once the evening came,
the vanishing sun had set
and mysteriously toppled Time’s basket.
As the coins fell out,
the night’s dreams
floated backward over the time.

By the end of that night,
the renewed account
became ready for another day.

W. Wayne B.

© 2012 W. Wayne B.

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