Time that hangs so heavily
Upon unbusy hands;
Time that dies unwillingly
For some, heed my demands,
And slow your wild and headlong flight.
This one would see you last–
Don’t turn, as you spin day to night,
My life into just–past.
For I maintain bullheadedly,
With fervor and persistence,
That this is quite unquestionably
My favorite existence!
by Ray Romine Friday, December 21, 1951
