Slipping Away
It slips through your fingers
Like sand on the shore,
Laughing at you when
You grasp for more.
If you look away
Even briefly it is gone.
Leaving you bereft of your own
Senses. This time it’s a friend
Maybe even a lover
But have no fear, brother,
For soon it will be you
No matter what you do.
Remember that soap opera,
Like Sands Through the Hourglass,
So are the Days of Our Lives?
No matter all the fantasy
This part was true,
And taunting of you
As you let the sand trickle
Watching rubbish
Steal the very sands of time
From you, while you sat
Enthralled, not even feeling
It slip away
Stealing all that you had come
To love, not even knowing.
But sand and time,
So plentiful may seem,
Yet only a little of either
Can you briefly hold.
July 2023
About This Poem
I don't know what inspired this poem, but I know that many of the tombstones in the older cemeteries like this one in Boston have epitaphs and grim reapers and hourglasses to remind you that your time is limited. In the cemetery it can seem grim, but it really is something good to remember. I think I could probably improve upon this poem a bit, but for now I'll share this version.
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