Have you ever heard of time?
She’s an elusive woman,
yet somehow she always finds me
in the darkest alleys lit solely
by a streetlight and cigarette.
And she greets me as my feet
hit the pavement knighted by
million dollar homes. Fresh concrete
never felt better on my knees.
That woman sips black coffee
on my porch, forever at six in 
the morning. She nods at the 
strollers and wheelchairs passing
by. Time never ceases to impress
me when my roses are fading in
the garden and my table begins
to rust. She teases me before crossing
busy streets at rush hour and
after lighting fireworks on the 
holidays. She smiles softly at me.