AI Poem of the Week: The Stolen Hour

AI Prompt: Write a poem about the sadness of time changing in the fall with daylight savings time

The Stolen Hour

An hour slips between my hands— Dark comes knocking, uninvited, While my body still demands The sun that’s been delighted To keep me company till now, Till this arbitrary theft Of light we somehow allow, This wound that leaves us bereft.

Five o’clock wears midnight’s mask, Windows darken during dinner, Morning light, too much to ask, As days grow ever thinner. My rhythm stutters, loses pace, Like music played off-beat— Time’s familiar, friendly face Now strange upon the street.

The children notice first of all, Their bodies wise to nature’s time, Fighting sleep at evening’s fall, When darkness feels a sort of crime. Their questions echo what we know: Why must we shift and change? Why let precious daylight go And make the familiar strange?

Yet in this loss there’s something gained: A lesson in time’s fluid dance, How light and dark, unconstrained, Pay no heed to circumstance. We who measure, count, and save These precious moments’ flight Must learn to sit within time’s cave And make our peace with night.