Time

a poem

Photo by Meghan Schiereck on Unsplash

Time really does just pass right by.

Like sifting sand through hands that hold it,

trying to squeeze it tightly to enclose it.

To feel it passing through the fingertips,

it grips the soul that needs it,

wants it,

sifts through it,

haunts it.

has it just to feel at ease.

Please

don’t let it pass through gaping holes,

strength can’t last,

and then it folds.

This soul that thirsts for one last chance

to feel the grains of time and dance

with the thoughts of having full hands once more,

filled with sand, feeling more and more.

Each grain that passes catches a ride

with the wind and off it goes

never to return again.

So the soul keeps digging,

hungering for more

of the sand of time

that melts into the shore.

Ahhhh…

Aint it funny how time slips away…