My brother moved to NZ where time has gone to pot.
Ma was never certain of the time his clock had got
when hers was showing something else - a unrelenting crime!
She’d telephone him in his bed when it was his nighttime
at three, or four or five a.m., her timing less than fine.
And as Poetry Jam asked us to write about 'senses' - this is all about the downside of a sense of time! LOL
