What time is It...Exactly

burning crosses on the highway
and bridges across many rivers
stamping on hourglasses
and mounds of sand
on time's floor

a merry dance we lead
on the rose petals strewn path
stamping on thorns
and smelling the scents
laughing through tears
and crying with laughter

and then the pain and aches come
o look the autumn years have arrived
the chill of the morning air
hurts more the bones
than invigorate the lungs
laughing turned to smiles
crying dried up tears

winter is coming
the cold air
leaves falling like confetti
closed eyes inspire dreams
taste buds gone
wine's a whisper
of dead spring

are you ready says Jack Frost
peering through his hood
what time is it...exactly
the mound of blanket
croaks.