2011 - Day 197

A slow motion statue peers across the ocean
Waiting for something that it doesn't know,
Hoping for a powerful potion,
One that can twist up time as it flows.
Reverse the roles of the world around us,
Let the statue be quick while the rest of us slow,
The statue could run as fast as a wind gust,
The slower we went means the faster it'd go.
Instead though no 'something' ever became,
Not through summers hot sun nor though winters cold snow.
The statue grew tired and rusty and green,
Then finally disappeared into the ocean below.