You’re Running Out of Time (Hour Seven)

“Quick,” she said. “You’re running out of time.”

I opened my eyes and blinked, tried to focus on her face.

“How is it,” I asked, “that thoughts rise like bubbles,

And then pop suddenly? Like this, they disappear.”

“No matter,” she said. “The Muse is teasing you.

She wants you to appreciate it when her lightning strikes.

Try wooing her and see what happens.”

And I knew then, I’d been an awful suitor.

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