Move Me Poetry
Published in

Move Me Poetry

The Hour

Photo by Edgar Moran on Unsplash

How quickly an hour passes
I climb the stairs, I fold the
laundry, I leave the laundry
unfolded for another hour
that will pass as I remember
the hopeful cup of tucking
my child into bed, the hour
that stretches like a great
rubber band, only to
snap back
an hour has passed.



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Jane Smallwood

Jane Smallwood

Passionate about poetry; mine is a work in progress. I’m an editor who reads a lot, but when I read in my free time, I don’t change a word. Love to paddleboard!