Just About Time

Why is it always like this
One little thing ruins a lifetime of love
Lonely too many a times
This feeling eating me away from the insides
Carved on my heart and soul
While wave after wave washes it away
What about the scar
What about those days of sunshine
Does it all not matter
This bitterness
This pain
Throwing away all that we have
What about all that we built
What about that little something that hurts
What about all those promises
All that love
That we’re losing in a fistful of sand
That will slip away and never return
Like words writ on water
Like a tombstone that will gather dust
Like a cloud that will twist out of shape
Like a fleeting moment in which all that we have
Will just fade away

3 thoughts on “Just About Time

  1. If the moments never faded,
    will you have them, in your memory added?
    if the clouds didn’t change shape,
    how will we find new patterns to drape?
    the dust on the tombstone,
    adds value to tears which wash it with silent moan.
    love lost in a fistful of sand,
    is the love we get back in our hand.
    It’s only empty glasses we fill,
    say are you sad still?


  2. I’ve come to believe that the poet’s talent is not in wordplay or imagery (though these help) but that of compression. Fiction takes you back and forth in time. Whereas poetry forces you to think/feel on a pinhead. (this idea is most certainly not mine, though I’ve absolutely no idea where I read this; the ideas remain, the author slipped from my memory)
    At a certain level I could connect with your poem, maybe because I’ve been there and felt that.
    One little thing ruins a lifetime of love” and all those images that dealt with losing a loved one in our lives touched a raw nerve.


  3. Enjoyed your poem. A better day is coming.

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