Don’t forget to set your clocks, gentle readers. Here’s a poem I posted once before, but it’s been quite a while and it seems right for tonight.
Time
When I’m alone, I listen to water.
My brother sleeps.
My dog sleeps. I amalone.
The moon is full, and the sky
is full of sleeping jets. I’m here
by myself, beloved, alone.
Time is running out. I sit
on the bed, alone, waiting.
It will come for me. Time will
not forget me, leave me.
It waits behind the door
until I’m alone. Itsleeps
in the sink. Tick-tock,
it drips all night. Time hides
in shadows through the dappled
afternoon, sleeps and stretches
like a cat. I smell it in exhaust,
in fruit cut yesterday,
in my shampoo. I wait
by myself for time to emerge
from my dusty luggage, from
folded sheets, from long blades
of exhausted grass.
Time by J. Kyle Kimberlin is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Metaphor 
Reminder, that is. Love those slips; they come more and more frequently.
Loved it then; love it today. Thanks for the remember to get out and dance while the dancin's good.