Time
Puzzle pieces piled upon the table
Moments carefully measured and cut
Respites sandwiched between what is and what won’t become
Not wandering in my mind anymore into tomorrows
I flail helpless against the inevitable
I choke on my burning unshed tears
I grieve the erosion of self
I step away from plans
Now my focus sharpens upon the fallen leaves under my feet
Instead of next Spring’s buds
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
No comments:
Post a Comment