Thread: No Time of Day

Don't want my watch,
I'm bored with it.
You've got the time of day.

It's stapled to your shoulder,
worn in shades across your face.

Cold attitude's an accessory;
the straight angle in a nose.
One set of stubborn eyes
so selfish they acknowledge
no other soul's approach.

The message rests
out in the open;
but disinterest
is a code
to be cracked
during the asking:

Spare a speck of warmth?

Silence is an answer
when their demeanor
holds its pace.

Got the time?

No stranger answer
than the scorn
in a stranger's face.

Good catches, Fox. Also like your choice of stanza . Appreciated.

Cold attitude's an accessory;
the straight angle in a nose.
One set of stubborn eyes
so selfish they acknowledge
no other soul's approach.

Wonderful description, Edge, as Foxryder has already said, such a contemptuous heart.

Thanks Gumby.

I really liked that. One of my favourite things in poetry is having a moment in which you think to yourself, "I could have written this, it's so similar to things I've observed or felt", and I got that out of this. One minor nitpick, "when their demeanor/hold its pace.", should that be "holds"?