Haiku Glossy Gloss On Time's Etching And Rhyme's Sketching Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Time etches gain loss
dotted line stitch-stretched between
Chance's pitch and toss.

Rhyme sketches across
allotted lines, etched as scene's
seen to gather moss.

Interprets, gloss gloss
plots signs, seldom farfetched, clean
cut inklings crisscross

rarely at a loss
for words as syllables glean
hidden meanings, doss

till saint, wretch, Pangloss
or Pandora, come across, wean,
letch purposes cross.

Time mocks Man's dykes, boss
sweeper, commoner, king, queen
verbal candyfloss

From and to dust, schloss
rises falls, [w]alls might-have-been
ex libris embossed.