Waiting To Expire (Poetry)

It could be today
I have no date stamp
like a borrowed book
inked clearly to state
when my time is up

There’s nothing to say
who I belong to
or where I’ve come from
when due for return
no indication

So there is no way
I can plan what’s left
to fit on the page
once the margins yawned
now they shrink with age

While the hours stay
close-lipped — won’t reveal
and the clock plays dumb
as more minutes steal
then vanish away

My edges decay
and stardust turns grey
I wait in some queue
where the moon’s au fait
life ends any day