by Shannon Fox
By Pablo Neruda
Today, how many hours are falling
into the well, into the net, into time:
they go slowly but never stopped to rest,
they keep on falling, swarming together
at first like fish,
then like falling bottles or stones.
There below the hours come
to agree with the days,
with the months,
with blurred memories,
with uninhabited nights,
clothes, women, trains, provinces,
and time collects,
hour upon hour
dissolves in silence,
crumbles and falls
into the acid of all ruins,
into the black water
of the inverted night.
Shannon Fox - Author 
My God but this is gorgeous! Thank you so much for sharing 🙂
You’re welcome! I thought so too!
Lovely poem- thank you for sharing! I had a good time reading it.
I got out of this poem that time is just wasting away. Lovely write,
Shannon, would you like to post your poetry into my new poetry blog which is open to all poets.
You could start with your oldest, it would also help your site.
Read here to find out more, http://poetscornerblog.wordpress.com/about-poets-corner/