Fleeting Time

The sand of time slips through the fingers,

Seconds turn to minutes,

Minutes into hours,

Hours into days.


The dread of days into weeks,

Weeks into months,

And months turning into years.


A touch that was refused

An ego that was hurt

That split second when the river of love froze.


Walls started building,

Conversations went downhill,

Naughty giggles turned to silence,

Warm hugs into cold stares,

Intimacy into disdain,

Courtship into formal courtesy.


That denial cannot be undone,

An acceptance that cannot be given;

Time does not reverse itself

It moves forward.

But the hands of your clock stay still.



One thought on “Fleeting Time

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