The Price of Time
Raymond D. Kruk
Not to be a force of justice
And not of prudent discrimination.
But the fate of freedom in the wilderness,
Is not the absence of imagination.
The passion or poison of one's lips,
To spring a fountain of youth
Or even have the power to sink ships.
No mock trial would have the sense to prove.
And in this one bittersweet note,
The stained theme of innocence was lost without light.
The sentence of a sinister crime the author wrote,
The question was not to be heard of who was wrong or right.
A contemplation to squander
Of thoughtlessness or concern of hope.
A time piece to look at and wander,
But at last the judgment of a twisted rope.
A last qualm or notion to be said,
The age of innocence is not far from me.
A foreshadowing plot that misled,
It's just the time that's harder to see.
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