Time Change

Drunk with night's exhausting dreams

I painstakingly wend my way,

old layers of time interposing themselves

in memory through the day.

I shake off old time zones from hour to hour,

trying hard to remain "present time,"

but the old zones slip in, over and over again,

without tangible reason or rhyme.

It tires a body, this constant flux,

global movements in the mind,

each bearing an old mood, like an old perfume,

"signature notes" varied in kind.

One whiff after another, fickle time has its way

of obliviously wafting through,

uncaring of mindset it blithely disturbs

as it swings between old and new.