Once when time’s long waves swallowed the soft-sand beach
I could hardly feel momentum wash beneath my feet.
Though it seized a small piece of me before it slipped back,
I remained nearly the same, but for that scant touch.
Soon I found Time in our grandmother clock, always in the hall,
elegant but remote. I watched her thin pointed fingers
keeping hours in her polished case. Never relaxed, her hands
tried each moment, then moved on—how fast she ran distances.
But time did not chime warnings to save me from lateness.
No rooster—mornings she will not gladly waken me,
nor will she shush me to sleep at night. Three AM! Not again!
When I lose Time, trouble finds me. But no help can I expect.
Time, I know you’ve allotted my full share of years, for free.
But I foresee abandonment, you racing on, oblivious, without me.
Published in Orchards Poetry Review, Spring 2024