pocket in time

i wear time like a shirt

it’s covered in dirt

wrinkled and creased

catching things in between

straighten my thoughts:

‘what are the odds,

the sheer chance i caught her

lost in the folds of my collar?’

what a shame i can’t alter

reality for us to meet earlier

i’ll just sew a new pocket in time

where i’ll be yours and you’ll be mine

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