Three Poems


Who has the time? he asked.
But none in the room wore a watch.
On the hearth lay a dog, its two
front paws making parallel lines.
It’s eleven o’clock, said another,
the day has scarcely begun.
But the dog was a black dog,
black with one blind eye.
It’s nearing midnight, said a third,
and which of us is ready?

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.