A Ballad Out Of Time

 

Many think that instants are lost in distance,
and that the seconds come first;
Some say that a minute is long for a dispute,
And that hours in happiness burst.

A Fewer are up in the early morning, ready for mourning
Of one midnight full of ethereal hopes;
Others will watch the dawn, from a rooftop painted brown,
Before midday, when they will cut old ropes.

Maybe many after this day will go walking beside the bay,
to witness the sunrise despite the rain;
And perhaps, yet again, yesterday will fade away,
And the morning without worries shall reign.

But I, after a week, will find this ease too hard to seek,
And by noon, many won't understand my words;
For I, can't stand a whole month, loving just once,
and just you, between my other flying birds.