Where does the time go?

When the clock goes forward by its incongruous hour

it sits in a bank somewhere off shore in an account

owned by a Time magnet, a man who twiddles his embalmed moustache

and thinks of the interest earned

on the sixty minutes deposited, we lose an hour, he gains seventy

million and will live forever.

When he gives that hour back in late October,

the month in which Time gets charged its annual V.A.T.

(Vanity Adulterated Time), we see not a single second

added to it, yet that hour has accrued a benefit not seen.

If after forty four years in a bank run by a smiling Swiss local, surely

I am entitled to at least an extra week allotted to my life span,

I know how I would spend it also, in bed, with the clock turned off

and the blinds firmly

shut.

Ian D. Hall 2015