Villanelle Three

Villanelle Three

by Shelia Dong

No longer does it seem that time’s a gift

Compressing near the end and then the snap –

A climb and then a fall into the rift.

In childhood, days are lazy golden drift

As green as trees, as sweet and slow as sap

Despite bright ribbons, time a cast-off gift.

On beaches, hourglass sands through fingers sift,

The waves a metronome that coldly lap

At climbing feet that soon will meet the rift.

Then Monday sinks its teeth, you’re in the lift

Wishing you could only take a nap

No longer sure if time’s a valid gift.

Your lover’s acting distant since you tiffed

The argument inane – a leaky tap

Your voices climbed, then fell into a rift.

Gone are languid days when you what-iffed

Your lonely lunch done too, now toss the wrap

No longer does it seem that time’s a gift –

A climb and then a fall into the rift.

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